The Fed’s Policy Mechanics Retool for a Rise in Interest Rates

It’s easy to take for granted the Federal Reserve’s ability to raise interest rates. Even among the legions who doubt that Fed officials will pick the ideal moment to start increasing rates for the first time since 2008, few question the Fed’s technical competence. The central bank has a long history. The engine is known to work.

So it may come as a surprise to learn that the old engine is broken. When the Fed decides that it’s time to “lift off” — perhaps this week, but more likely later this year — it will be relying on a new system, assembled from spare parts, to make interest rates rise.

There is a general agreement among economists and market analysts that the Fed’s plans make sense in theory. A team led by Simon Potter, a former academic who now heads the Fed’s market desk in New York, has been testing and fine-tuning the details by moving billions of dollars around the financial system.

But markets have a long history of scrambling the best-laid plans.

“If something is going to go wrong, I haven’t been able to figure out what, but there’s a lot of reason for caution,” said Stephen G. Cecchetti, the former chief economist at the Bank for International Settlements. “We’ve never done this before.”

The stakes are huge. The Fed is in charge of keeping economic growth on an even keel: minimal unemployment, moderate inflation. It tends to operate conservatively and to change very slowly because when it errs, the nation suffers.

Yet the Fed has found itself forced to experiment. The immense stimulus campaign that it started in response to the 2008 financial crisis changed its relationship with the financial markets. It has pumped so many dollars into the system that it cannot easily drain enough money to discourage lending, its traditional approach. Instead, the Fed plans to throw more money at the problem, paying lenders not to make loans.

The Fed, embedded in the banking system, has also concluded that working through the banks is no longer sufficient to influence the broader economy. It plans to strengthen its hold by working directly with an expanded range of lenders.

Fed officials have repeatedly expressed confidence that the plan will work. “The committee is confident that it has the tools it needs to raise short-term interest rates when it becomes appropriate to do so,” Janet L. Yellen, the Fed’s chairwoman, told Congress earlier this year, referring to its policy-making body, the Federal Open Market Committee.

And if the new approach does not work at first, Mr. Potter said in a recent speech, then his team of monetary mechanics “stands ready to innovate” until it does.

Freezing, Not Draining

The markets desk at the New York Fed has put monetary policy into practice since the mid-1930s. In the decades before the Great Recession, the desk exercised its remarkable influence over the American economy through its control of an odd little marketplace in which banks could come to borrow money for a single night.

The Fed requires banks to set aside reserves in proportion to the deposits the banks accept from customers. The reserves can be kept in cash or held in an account at the Fed. Banks that need reserves at the end of a given day can borrow from banks that have a surplus. Before the crisis, the Fed controlled the interest rate on those loans by modulating the supply of reserves: It lowered interest rates by buying Treasury securities from banks and crediting their accounts, increasing the supply of reserves; it raised rates by selling Treasuries to banks and debiting their accounts.

As the crisis hit in 2008, the Fed pressed this machine to its limits. It bought enough securities and pumped enough reserves into the banking system to drive interest rates on short-term loans to nearly zero. The federal government now pays about a dime to borrow $1,000 for one month. Companies with good credit pay about a dollar to borrow $1,000 from money market funds and other investors.

But the Fed didn’t stop there. It kept buying Treasuries and mortgage bonds to eliminate safe havens, forcing money into riskier investments that might generate economic activity. As a byproduct, the Fed kept expanding the supply of reserves.

One result is a banking system almost comically awash in money. In June 2008, banks had about $10.1 billion in their Fed accounts. The total is now $2.6 trillion. Picture all of the money in June 2008 as a single brick; the Fed has added 256 bricks of the same size. On top of that first brick, there is now a stack five stories tall.

Bank of America, for example, had $388 million in its Fed account at the end of June 2008. Seven years later, at the end of June 2015, it had $107 billion. The bank could double in size and double again and still have more reserves than it needs.

To switch metaphors, the old monetary-policy machine sits at the bottom of a lake of excess reserves. The Fed would need to sell most of the securities it has accumulated before short-term rates would start to rise. Selling quickly could roil markets; selling slowly could allow the economy to overheat. So the Fed decided to find another way.

Instead of draining all that excess money, the Fed decided to freeze it.

Paying Banks Not to Lend

For the last seven years, the Fed has encouraged financial risk-taking in the service of its campaign to increase employment and economic growth. By starting to raise interest rates, the Fed intends to gradually discourage risk-taking.

The straightforward part of the plan is persuading banks not to make loans.

In a serendipitous stroke, Congress passed a law shortly before the financial crisis that let the Fed pay interest on the reserves that banks kept at the Fed. Written as a sop to the banking industry, it has become the new linchpin of monetary policy.

Say the Fed wanted to raise short-term interest rates to 1 percent, meaning that it did not want banks to lend at lower rates. Because the glut of reserves is so great, the Fed could not easily raise rates by reducing the availability of money. Instead, the Fed plans to pre-empt the market, paying banks 1 percent interest on reserves in their Fed accounts, so banks have little reason to lend at lower rates. “Why would you lend to anyone else when you can lend to the Fed?” Kevin Logan, chief United States economist at HSBC, asked rhetorically.

This is not a cheap trick. Since the crisis, the Fed has paid banks a token annual rate of 0.25 percent on reserves. Last year alone, that cost $6.7 billion that the Fed would have otherwise handed over to the Treasury. Paying 1 percent interest would cost four times as much. The Fed has sent roughly $500 billion to the Treasury since 2008. As the Fed raises rates, some projections show that it may not transfer a single dollar in some years. Instead, the Fed will pay banks tens of billions of dollars not to use the trillions it paid them previously.

At first, Fed officials thought that paying interest to banks would establish a minimum rate for all short-term loans, exerting the same kind of broad influence as the old system. It soon became clear, however, that rates on most such loans remained lower than 0.25 percent. Even banks that needed overnight loans found they could borrow more cheaply. The average rate in July was 0.13 percent — about half of the Fed’s new benchmark rate.

The rest of the financial system is also awash in cash, and lenders — like money market mutual funds — put downward pressure on interest rates as they fight to attract borrowers.

And here’s where the Fed’s plans got a little less orthodox.

The Fed lacks the legal authority to pay these lenders a minimum interest rate on deposits, as it does to the banks. But two years ago, Lorie Logan, one of Mr. Potter’s top aides, suggested the Fed could achieve the same goal by borrowing from these companies at a minimum interest rate.

The resulting deals, known as overnight reverse repurchase agreements, signal a significant break from the Fed’s history of working through only the banking industry.

“We’re pushing more activity out of the regulated banking sector, and so monetary policy has to take account of the unregulated sector,” said Jon Faust, an economist at Johns Hopkins University who until recently served as an adviser to Ms. Yellen, and before that to her predecessor, Ben S. Bernanke. “The world is changing, and I think the bigger risk is not changing along with it.”

When liftoff arrives, however, the Fed plans to place this machinery inside the familiar language of the old system. It is likely to announce that it is raising the federal funds rate, the interest rate that banks pay to borrow reserves, from its current range of 0 to 0.25 percent to a new range of 0.25 to 0.5 percent. The Fed does not plan to emphasize that this rate is now a stage prop or that the real work of raising rates will be done outside the limelight by its new tools.

Mission Control

On weekdays at about 12:45 p.m., the New York Fed’s trading portal, known as FedTrade, plays three musical notes — F-E-D — signaling that Mr. Potter’s shop is open for business. So begins another day of training camp, another test of the Fed’s plans to borrow money from nonbank financial companies.

The Fed’s traders sit at terminals in a converted conference room. Along one wall are five chairs and five sets of computer monitors beneath five historical photographs of the trading desk: men answering phones, men writing bids in chalk on a long board and, in the most recent photograph, from the 1980s, a glimpse of a woman in the background. On another wall is a screen that links the room in New York by videoconference with a backup trading room at the Chicago Fed.

Potential lenders — a preapproved group of 168, including a bevy of money market funds and the housing finance companies Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac — have 30 minutes to offer the Fed up to $30 billion each. At 1:13 p.m., a warning message starts blinking red. At 1:15 p.m., the Fed closes the auction and accepts up to $300 billion in loans at an interest rate of 0.05 percent.

During two years of experiments, the Fed team has adjusted the rates it pays, the amounts it accepts and the time it enters the market, among other variables. Mr. Potter and his lieutenants have also held lunch meetings with investors on the other side of the portal to solicit advice and complaints.

The size of the program poses the most obvious risk. Fed officials limited daily borrowing to $300 billion because they didn’t want to freeze more money than necessary. They also worry about exacerbating market downturns by giving investors a new place to flee. These concerns were heightened by reports that some investment companies were interested in creating money market funds that would be advertised as the safest place to park money — because the money would be parked at the Fed.

Last year, at the end of September, shortly after the cap was imposed, lenders offered the Fed $407 billion on a single day. Demand was so high that instead of asking for interest, some lenders offered to pay the Fed to take the money. The Fed ended up borrowing at zero percent and turning away $107 billion in loans.

A cardinal rule of central banking is that you don’t starve financial markets during panics, and the Fed has been leaning in the direction of doing more. It has already announced that it is willing to borrow at least $200 billion through a parallel program at the end of September this year, for a total of $500 billion. It has also suggested that it may raise the cap during liftoff. “My sense is we’re better off making sure we can maintain control,” James Bullard, president of the St. Louis Fed, said in a recent interview.

Unpredictable Reactions

“This is where the nutty people on the bond-trading desks have control,” joked Alan Blinder, a former Fed vice chairman, when asked if the Fed’s plan would work.

Mr. Blinder’s point was that markets ultimately determined the cost of borrowing money, particularly for longer-term loans like mortgages and corporate bonds. The Fed can be precise in its planning, but the market is unpredictable in its reactions.

Fed officials have emphasized that they do not want the liftoff to surprise investors. “This has probably been the most telegraphed 25-point rate hike in history,” said Wayne Schmidt, chief investment officer at Gradient Investments in Arden Hills, Minn. “I think when they actually do something, it will be more of a nonevent.”

But there are at least three reasons markets are becoming less predictable.

The rise of an interconnected global financial system has weakened the Fed’s influence over interest rates. When the Fed last raised short-term rates, beginning in 2004, officials were surprised that long-term rates failed to rise because foreign money was pouring into the housing market and other domestic investments. This time, there are plenty of warnings that the weaknesses of other developed economies could once again make it harder for the Fed to raise domestic interest rates.

“Financial market conditions have come to depend increasingly not only on developments at home but also on developments abroad,” William C. Dudley, the president of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, said in a February speech in which he cautioned the Fed’s control over those conditions had been “loosened.”

The Fed’s audience also increasingly consists of computer programs that will start buying and selling securities before people have time to read the first words of the Fed’s policy statement, creating the potential for new kinds of chaos.

On Oct. 15, for example, automated trading programs drove up the price of 10-year Treasuries in a burst of buying so intense that a government report later found the machines bought more than 10 percent of the securities from their own firms. Then, just as quickly, the computers turned around and drove prices back down.

The 12-minute spree was among the largest price movements ever seen in one of the world’s most liquid markets, yet the government report found no clear cause.

Finally, investors say regulatory changes are keeping some large traders on the sidelines, making it harder to buy and sell, even in the highly liquid market for Treasuries. That can exacerbate market movements because when people are in a hurry to buy or sell, they tend to chase the best available offers. “The depth of the market is not what it used to be,” said Tad Rivelle, chief investment officer for fixed income at TCW, a Los Angeles investment firm that manages some of the world’s largest bond funds. “You can get the same trades done, but it takes more time.”

Other observers, however, urge a broader perspective.

“People are very concerned about those 12 minutes last year,” said Mr. Cecchetti, now a professor of finance at the Brandeis International Business School. “I’m very reassured by the fact that there were only 12 minutes.”

Moreover, Mr. Cecchetti said that removing some liquidity was a good thing because much of that liquidity was a result of public subsidies for the banking system that had encouraged undue risk-taking.

“Does it mean that there’s going to be more high-frequency volatility? Sure,” he said. “It means the Simon Potters of the world are going to have to be much more careful about what they’re doing. But that seems to me to be kind of O.K.”

Volcker’s Messy Lesson

Mr. Potter has worked at the New York Fed since the late 1990s, but he spent most of his career there in the research department before taking over the markets desk in 2012. He became more involved in the practical side of the Fed’s work during the financial crisis. In a 2012 speech at New York University, Mr. Potter said the experience — particularly during a four-week period at the peak of the crisis — had impressed upon him the limits of theory, the need to understand what investors are thinking and the value of flexibility in policy making.

“For economists who did not have the opportunity to observe the panic up close as I and most of my colleagues had, the developments in this four-week period must have been bewildering, given how widely events on the ground and theory diverged,” he said.

That perspective may come in handy. The last time the Fed shifted the basic mechanics of monetary policy was in the early 1980s, when Paul Volcker was its chairman. That campaign is remembered as a triumph of central banking. Mr. Volcker succeeded in driving inflation down toward modern levels, ending a long period in which governments had floundered helplessly to prevent rising prices.

But Mr. Faust, the Johns Hopkins economist, says the messiness of Mr. Volcker’s triumph is often overlooked. The Fed’s initial plans did not work and were revised and did not work and were revised again — and still didn’t work.

He said the Volcker episode was a reminder that monetary policy is not figure skating. The Fed is likely to flail, he says, but it will be measured by its success in getting interest rates to rise, not by the grace of its performance.

“If you’re into the internal plumbing, I suspect there will be times when that looks messy because this is new,” Mr. Faust said. “But central banks can raise interest rates, and they will. And as long as that happens, from the standpoint of the broader economy, everything is fine and the rest will be forgotten or become a footnote of history.”

Source: http://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/13/business/economy/the-feds-policy-mechanics-retool-for-a-rise-in-interest-rates.htmlhttp://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/13/business/economy/the-feds-policy-mechanics-retool-for-a-rise-in-interest-rates.html

Fed risks using wrong tool to tighten

The Federal Reserve has been sending strong signals that it is preparing to raise interest rates for the first time since 2006. As the Fed prepares for lift-off, its operational framework and large balance sheet may pose challenges to market functioning.

The Fed’s balance sheet has increased from roughly $1tn at the end of 2007 to well over $4tn at present. This stems from about $3.4tn of purchases of US Treasuries and other bonds under the Fed’s quantitative easing programmes. This took such assets out of market ownership to reside on the Fed’s balance sheet.

This is important because market interest rates are effectively determined in the collateral market, such as the repo, or repurchase market, where banks and other financial institutions exchange collateral (such as US Treasuries, mortgage securities, corporate debt, equities) for money.

Financial agents that settle daily margins may post cash or collateral; this forms the core of the financial plumbing. Such “pledged” collateral is generally received by banks not only via repo markets but also from securities lending, prime brokerage agreements with hedge funds, and derivative positions. The largest suppliers of pledged collateral are hedge funds; other sources include insurers, pension funds, central banks and sovereign wealth funds.

The repo rate is an important market signal and should move in tandem with the fed funds rate; hence the need to have good plumbing.

In 2007, the collateral market was $10tn in size; now it is only $6tn. A further reduction lies ahead, threatening to rust the financial plumbing, as the Fed prepares to raise interest rates.

There are two ways the Fed can tighten monetary policy to control interest rates once it has raised them. The first is to use and expand its so-called reverse repo programme, which soaks up large sums of money from non-banks such as money market funds, but does not release collateral from the Fed’s balance sheet back into the market.

The second is to sell US Treasuries, which similarly mops up cash while also supplying collateral.

The reverse repo programme is currently capped at $300bn per day, but the Fed may raise this cap to ensure reverse repos mop up enough cash to maintain a floor on interest rates. Reverse repos work by persuading non-banks to remove dollars deposited with banks and place them with the Fed, in exchange for collateral such as Treasury bonds. So the Fed becomes the new counterparty to the non-bank, while the bank gets “balance sheet space” as the deposits move to the Fed.

Crucially, this process does not release collateral to the market as the operational structure of the reverse repo facility puts practical restrictions on the reuse of collateral. Thus, none of the collateral within the reverse repo programme can be used to post at central clearing houses, in the bilateral derivatives markets, in the bilateral repo market or delivered against short positions.

The consequence of a sizeable reverse repo programme would be that money becomes scarcer as it is drained from the market, thus raising the repo rate, while collateral becomes proportionately more abundant and therefore cheaper. Thus, by targeting the size of the programme, the repo rate can be made to track the fed funds rate; however, this will result in the repo rate not being a market rate.

A better option would be to keep the reverse repo programme size at its present level and sell US Treasuries . These bonds could be sliced and diced for repos and related collateral usage. While the Fed can control the amount sold, collateral gets reused, which is not under the Fed’s control, so the repo rate may not equate to the fed funds rate. However, selling of US Treasuries can be fine-tuned, to reduce a large wedge between two rates.

It is crucial to ensure that the market plumbing does not get rusty through the use of a large reverse repo programme. A deep and liquid collateral market provides price signals (like the repo rates) that would be weaker under a large programme.

For effective monetary policy transmission, all rates should move in sync with the fed funds rate and this requires good plumbing.

Manmohan Singh is the author of Collateral and Financial Plumbing and a senior economist at the International Monetary Fund; views are his own and not those of the IMF

Source: http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/0/0d72eaa8-885f-11e5-9f8c-a8d619fa707c.html

Money for old folk: The relationship between ageing and inflation is not as simple as economists assume

WHEN it comes to the economic impact of demography, Japan is the wizened canary in the world’s coal mine. It has become older faster than any other big country: its median age went from 34 in 1980 to 46 today, and will continue rising for decades. But it will soon have plenty of greying company, from wealthy countries such as Finland and South Korea to developing giants, including China and Russia. Economists generally agree that the ageing of populations leads to slower growth, because a country’s potential output tends to fall as its labour force shrinks. They also expect heavier fiscal burdens, with governments providing for more pensioners from a smaller tax base.

Until recently, though, there had been little research into how demography affects inflation. The Japanese example of persistent deflation over the past two decades was seen as evidence enough that prices fall when countries age and their growth slows. Shinzo Abe, Japan’s prime minister, has sought to disprove that, espousing massive monetary easing to get prices rising. With inflation slumping far below the Bank of Japan’s 2% target in recent months, it is tempting to conclude that ageing is too powerful a force to overturn. But a new body of research* gives advocates of Abenomics a bit of support, at least on the demographic front. It shows that deflation is not the preordained outcome of ageing.

The problem lies not in identifying the possible links between ageing and prices, but in working out which way they cut. Consider the factors of production. When growth slows businesses rein in investment, so the cost of capital may decline. Yet wages ought to rise when the supply of workers falls. In the realm of fiscal policy, some indebted governments may make painful cuts as pensioners multiply, leading to slow growth and sluggish inflation. But others may opt to monetise their debt, pushing inflation up. (Some suspect this is the ultimate aim of Abenomics.)

How to disentangle these possibilities? In a recent working paper, Mitsuru Katagiri of the Bank of Japan and Hideki Konishi and Kozo Ueda of Waseda University distinguish between the ageing caused by a falling birth rate and that brought on by increased longevity. The main effect of fewer births would be a shrinking tax base; that might prompt the government to embrace inflation to erode its debts and thus stay solvent. But longer lives would cause the ranks of pensioners to swell; their increased political influence, in turn, would augur for tighter monetary policy to prevent inflation eating into savings.

In the case of Japan the authors estimate that the ageing process has led to deflation of about 0.6 percentage points a year over the past 40 years—a huge cumulative impact. That, they believe, is because the big surprise in Japanese demography has been ever-increasing longevity. Fertility rates are close to the levels projected in 2002, but the government has steadily revised up its estimates of lifespans. It is unexpected longevity, not simply ageing, that has been deflationary in Japan.

What about the impact of ageing on financial assets? Economic theory—“the life-cycle hypothesis”—holds that people smooth their consumption over their lifetimes, going into debt when young, buying assets when their earnings peak and selling them to pay for retirement. That, in theory, should lead to lower asset values as countries enter their dotage, but the empirical record is mixed: house prices often fall, but stocks sometimes rise.

An important variable is whether assets sold by pensioners are domestic or foreign. Derek Anderson, Dennis Botman and Ben Hunt of the International Monetary Fund looked at the decrease in Japan’s net savings rate from some 15% of disposable income in the early 1990s to about zero in 2011. What stands out is that many of the liquidated savings had been invested in foreign assets. When Japanese pensioners sold stocks and bonds abroad and repatriated the funds, they fuelled an appreciation in the yen—a consistent problem until 2012. This in turn contributed to deflationary pressure, by lowering the cost of imports. But the researchers also reckon that strong monetary easing combined with a credible commitment to an inflation target would have been sufficient to negate the effect of ageing. In other words, they believe Japan needed Abenomics long before it got it.

Greyflation

A recent paper by Mikael Juselius and Elod Takats for the Bank for International Settlements offers a very different take on how ageing affects inflation, suggesting that Japan may not be typical after all. They look at 22 advanced economies from 1955 to 2010. Japan is, after all, not the only country to have experienced deflation. Sure enough, they find a steady correlation between deflation and demography, but just the opposite of what is commonly assumed. A larger share of dependents—both young and old—is associated with higher inflation, whereas having more people of working age is linked to lower inflation. Their explanation, albeit tentative, is straightforward. Countries with more people consuming goods and services than producing them are liable to have excess demand and thus inflationary tendencies. Those with more producers than consumers will, by contrast, have excess supply and a deflationary bias.

That raises the question of why prices in Japan have fallen for so many years, given its rapidly ageing population. There are several potential culprits: the damaged balance-sheets left by the popping of the asset bubble of the 1980s, say, or the hesitant monetary policy before Mr Abe. But if the paper’s thesis holds true, an ageing population could yet lead to rising prices in the coming years. As the Bank of Japan seeks to vanquish deflation, demography may turn out to be friend, not foe.

Source: http://www.economist.com/ageing15

Broke but never bust: The ECB and Swiss National Bank should be much more relaxed about losing money

 

CONTEMPORARY central banking is a strongbox of oddities. Deposits, which normally pay interest, can now incur a charge. Investments in government debt, which normally offer a return, give a negative yield. Faced with this weirdness central banks are trying to respect some cardinal rules of finance, with the Swiss National Bank (SNB) and the European Central Bank (ECB) taking steps to protect themselves from losses and ensure that their balance-sheets add up. The experience of several poorer places suggests they are wrong to do so.

In calm times central banking is simple and profitable. Central banks’ assets—mainly bonds issued by rich countries and blue-chip firms—pay a decent return. Their liabilities—deposits made by high-street banks and banknotes—cost them little or nothing. With this wedge between income and outgoings shareholders receive a dividend. The SNB paid dividends of SFr1 billion ($1.15 billion) to Switzerland’s federal and regional governments in 2012. The ECB’s 2013 payout—divvied up across the euro-area national central banks—was €1.4 billion ($1.9 billion).

The financial crisis changed the business. For one thing central banks are far bigger (see left-hand chart). Between 2006 and 2014 central-bank balance-sheets in the G7 jumped from $3.4 trillion to $10.5 trillion, or from 10% to 25% of GDP. And the assets they hold have changed. The SNB, aiming to protect Swiss exporters from an appreciating currency, has built up a huge stock of euros, bought with newly created francs. The ECB, mindful of tight credit, has lent money to banks and bought corporate bonds. And on January 22nd, as The Economist went to press, it was expected to announce that it would start buying government debt.

The expansion would be greater but for worries about cashflow and capital. Bonds that paid 5% or more ten years ago now yield nothing, and other investments have performed badly (the SNB was stung by a drop in the value of gold in 2013 and cut its dividend to zero). Concerned that its euro holdings might lose value the SNB shocked markets on January 15th by abruptly ending its euro-buying spree. Worries that QE will lead to losses if struggling governments default on their debt have caused weeks of wrangling at the ECB, and may prevent it from buying Greek bonds.

From a narrow accounting perspective this caution seems prudent. With capital of €95 billion supporting a €2.2 trillion balance-sheet, the Eurosystem (the ECB and the national banks that stand behind it) is 23 times levered; a loss of 4% would wipe out its equity. Since two central banks have suffered devastating crunches recently (Tajikistan in 2007, Zimbabwe in 2009) the standard logic seems to apply: capital-eroding losses must be avoided.

But the worries are overdone. For one thing central banks are healthier than they appear. On top of its equity, the Eurosystem holds €330 billion in additional reserves. These funds are designed to absorb losses as assets change in value. Even if the ECB were to buy all available Greek debt—around €50 billion—and Greece were to default, the system would lose just 15% of these reserves; its capital would not be touched.

And even if a central bank’s equity were wiped out it would not go bust in the way high-street lenders do. With liabilities outweighing its assets it might seem unable to pay all its creditors. But even bust central banks retain a priceless asset: the power to print money. Customers’ deposits are a claim on domestic currency, something the bank can create at will. Only central banks that borrow heavily in foreign currencies they cannot mint (as in Tajikistan) or in failing states (Zimbabwe) get into deep trouble.

A helpful bias

The survival of threadbare central banks proves the theory. In the 1980s many emerging-market central banks faced sharply appreciating exchange rates and bought up dollars with newly created cash to cheapen their currencies. Since inflation was a worry they “sterilised” the purchases, mopping up the money by selling bonds to investors. With low-yielding assets (dollars) and high-cost liabilities (domestic-currency bonds) they locked in losses, as a 2008 paper* by Peter Stella and Ake Lonnberg of the IMF shows. By the late 1980s the central banks of Jamaica and Nicaragua were regularly losing 5% of GDP or more per year. After 20 years of losses Chile’s is in negative equity (see right-hand chart).

While none of these banks toppled, hawks have other fears. Like any firm, central banks face running costs. The urge to pay the bills could tempt them to print money rather than focus on inflation. Another worry, set out in a 2005 paper by John Dalton and Claudia Dziobek of the IMF, is that low capital could lead to a loss of independence. While negative capital doesn’t matter much it doesn’t look great; a central bank embarrassed by its capital deficiency might seek a capital injection from its finance ministry and be captured by boom-hungry politicians. In either case, capital erosion might mean a bias towards higher inflation.

There is some evidence for this. In a 2012 paper Gustavo Adler and Camilo Tovar of the IMF and Pedro Castro of the University of California, Berkeley, test the relationship between bank capital and interest-rate policy. Collecting data for 41 advanced and emerging economies between 2002 and 2011, they work out what a hypothetical central bank, behaving optimally, would do. They contrast this with the central bank’s choices and seek to explain why the two might diverge. They find that large deviations can be explained by a weak capital position. Flaky-looking central banks might lower interest rates by up to 72 basis points.

Doves should cheer this. Falling returns on government bonds mean central banks’ income will dwindle. Given their pumped-up balance-sheets, some losses are likely. None will fail, but a few might chase their losses by printing money and pushing rates down. In a world on the brink of deflation, bias towards a little more inflation would be no bad thing.

Source: http://www.economist.com/news/finance-and-economics/21640363-ecb-and-swiss-national-bank-should-be-much-more-relaxed-about-losing

Switzerland's monetary policy: The three big misconceptions about the Swiss franc

ON THURSDAY January 15th Switzerland’s central bank, the Swiss National Bank (SNB), removed the cap on its currency, which it had imposed over three years ago and reaffirmed only three days before its repeal. The doffing of the cap surprised and upset the foreign-exchange markets, hobbling several currency brokers, including Alpari (which happens to sponsor the London football team I support). Many commentators nonetheless welcomed the cap’s removal, arguing that the policy was either unsustainable, protectionist or risky, exposing the SNB to grievous losses. I find these criticisms of the cap unconvincing—and not just because I am a West Ham United fan. Let me address each of them in turn.

Misconception 1: The cap on the Swiss franc was unsustainable

Exchange-rate pegs often fail. To prop up its currency, a central bank might have to buy large amounts of its own money in exchange for dollars or euros. Eventually, it will exhaust its hard-currency reserves forcing it to abandon its peg.

The first thing to understand about the Swiss drama is that it is the exact opposite of this more familiar case. The Swiss central bank was trying to keep its currency down not prop it up. To achieve this goal, the SNB had promised to sell as many Swiss francs as necessary (in exchange for “unlimited quantities” of foreign currency). The promise was credible, because a central bank can print its own currency without limit. It cannot run out of its own money to sell. The cap was, therefore, sustainable if the SNB had wished to sustain it.

If a central bank overworks the printing press, its money will eventually lose value, of course. Inflation and depreciation set a limit on the power of central banks. But the Swiss had imposed the cap precisely because they wanted to raise domestic inflation from dangerously low levels (consumer prices fell by 0.3% in the year to December 2014, according to the Federal Statistics Office). Persisting with the currency cap might have pushed up prices. But that is no objection to the policy; on the contrary, it was the objective of it.

Misconception 2: The Swiss central bank needed to worry about big losses on its euro holdings

The second misconception is less basic. Every economist knows that a central bank cannot run out of its own currency. But many believe the Swiss cap was unsustainable for a different reason.

If the SNB had stuck with its cap, buying as many euros as people were willing to sell at its set price of 1.20 Swiss francs, its holdings of the single currency would have swollen in size. By the end of September 2014, it already held over €174 billion, according to its balance sheet. With the single currency weakening in anticipation of further monetary easing by the European Central Bank, this hoard was likely to grow to epic proportions.

Perhaps because I live in Hong Kong, where the monetary authority’s foreign assets amount to over 120% of the economy’s annual output, big central-bank balance sheets don’t scare me. But others worry. They point out that if the franc were ever permitted to rise against the single currency, the Swiss central bank would suffer an enormous loss on its euro assets. Euro holdings worth, say, 240 billion francs at the capped exchange rate would be worth 40 billion less in the Swiss currency if it rose by 20%.

If the loss were big enough, the central bank’s assets (which include its euro holdings) might end up being worth less than its liabilities (which are overwhelmingly in its home currency). The central bank, known until last week for its quiet conservatism, would be technically insolvent.

That would be a little awkward. It would not be easy to explain the central bank’s predicament to its shareholders, who include the Swiss cantons, or to unsympathetic political parties, such as the Swiss People’s Party—which has already sponsored an unsuccessful referendum to force the SNB to hold at least a fifth of its assets in gold.

But although insolvency is humbling for a central bank, it is far from crippling. “Central banks may operate perfectly well without capital as conventionally defined,” pointed out Peter Stella in a working paper published by the International Monetary Fund back in 1997. Central banks cannot go bust in the way that a commercial bank can. They can always pay their bills, because they print the money they owe.

Their debts are also peculiar. The SNB’s liabilities are chiefly Swiss francs. For the most part, as its balance sheet shows, they take the form of simple banknotes or the deposits that commercial banks hold at the central bank.

The franc, like all fiat money, is not backed by anything tangible. People accept it as payment because they are confident other people (including the tax authorities) will accept it. Try to redeem a banknote at the central bank and all you will get is a newer banknote. That is all that a central bank’s liabilities promise: I owe you an IOU.

These debts are also uniquely easy to service. Banknotes pay zero interest. Deposits at the SNB now yield even less than that: depositors pay the central bank, not the other way around.

Central banks do not, then, have to worry much about satisfying their creditors. Nor are they judged by the returns they earn for shareholders. They are judged by their ability to keep inflation in check and the financial system stable. Their balance sheet—the size and mix of their assets and liabilities—is important insofar as it serves that mission. It is a macroeconomic tool, not a statement of financial success or failure.

The SNB itself understands this. After it reported big losses on its foreign-exchange holdings in 2010 and early 2011, it faced doubts about its financial strength. Some people speculated that it might eventually suffer from negative net worth (also known as “negative equity”). In a 2011 speech, Thomas Jordan, who now heads the institution, answered these concerns directly.

“Might the SNB lose its capacity to act as a result of a negative equity level? And, if its equity were negative, would the SNB have to be recapitalised, or might it even have to go into administration?...[T]he short answer to all these questions is ‘No’.”

If the SNB ever became insolvent, it would not be the first central bank to suffer such an indignity. The Czech central bank and the Bank of Chile, among others, functioned perfectly well for years with liabilities that exceeded their assets.

Some economists argue that negative net worth is damaging for other reasons. It undermines a central bank’s “institutional credibility”, even if it doesn’t impair its day-to-day viability. These economists worry that a broke central bank might compromise its independence by going cap in hand to the government, asking to be recapitalised. Or it might print currency willy nilly to cover its losses and earn its way out of its financial hole. Either response would damage its standing as the guardian of the nation’s money.

But these worries hardly apply to the SNB. It has suffered losses (now and in the past) because its currency has strengthened, a reflection of the confidence foreigners place in it. If anything, “institutional credibility” is a cause of its balance-sheet problem not a potential casualty of it. Right now, the Swiss National Bank’s ability to prevent inflation is not in doubt. What is in doubt is its ability to create it.

Besides, a central bank’s financial strength is not ultimately the source of its operational independence. If a society is not, on balance, committed to price stability, the central bank will struggle to achieve it, no matter how strong its balance sheet. By the same token, if inflation is sufficiently unpopular, the state will give its central bank the leeway it needs to prevent it. That remains the case even if the central bank needs recapitalising once in a while.

Misconception 3: The cap was protectionist

When the SNB imposed the cap back in September 2011, the Swiss franc was strengthening fast, bid up by “refugee-capital” seeking a safe haven from the eurozone’s troubles. The strong franc made Switzerland’s upscale goods even pricier abroad, damaging its exporters’ competitiveness.

The cap put a stop to that. It thus drew criticism from economists worried about the impact on Switzerland’s trading partners. Ted Truman of the Peterson Institute for International Economics has described the cap as “openly protectionist”. According to other commentators, the cap contributed to the “currency wars”, in which countries try to seize market share from each other by weakening their exchange rates. By removing the cap, Switzerland was acting like a “good world citizen”, according to Dean Baker of the Center for Economic Policy Research, giving an “economic boost” to other countries that will enjoy healthier trade balances as a result.

When the SNB introduced the cap, it was indeed concerned about the “massive overvaluation” of the Swiss franc. Safe-haven flows were driving up the currency, displacing its manufacturers, just as oil or gas earnings can hollow out a country’s industrial base. The Swiss cap was helpful in preventing Dutch disease.

But the central bank’s main motivation for imposing the cap was not protectionism. It was trying instead to avert the risk of deflation. In keeping the currency down, it was trying to drive prices up. This ambition to raise prices is at odds with the notion that it was seeking to protect Swiss exporters. Because in raising inflation, the SNB would have reduced Switzerland’s competitiveness (all else equal) not sharpened it. If an exporter’s local prices and wages go up, it becomes less competitive abroad, even if the exchange rate remains the same.

Currencies, it is fair to point out, move much faster than goods prices or wages. So although inflation would have eroded the competitiveness of Swiss exporters eventually, it would have taken time. Currency appreciation, on the other hand, worked with brutal speed.

In seeking gradual inflation rather than abrupt currency appreciation, the SNB was therefore helping the country’s exporters. But in doing so, it was not defying fundamental market forces. It was instead choosing to expose exporters to one set of market forces rather than another: the sluggish forces of the goods market, rather than the bone-shaking forces of the foreign-exchange market. Neither market is perfect. The goods market is bogged down by inertia, transaction costs and long-term contracts that inhibit price flexibility. The currency markets, on the other hand, are swayed by bouts of speculation and skittishness. Neither does an unimpeachable job of setting an economy’s terms of exchange with the rest of the world.

In practice, there is an easy way to tell the difference between the SNB’s policy and that of the “currency warriors”, mercantilist central banks that suppress their exchange rates for competitive gain. Like the SNB, the currency warriors buy dollars or euros to keep their currencies cheap. In so doing, they create additional local money, just as the SNB did. But unlike the SNB, they “sterilise” their interventions, withdrawing this extra money from circulation (either by selling other assets or raising reserve requirements on banks). This prevents prices from rising, thus preserving the competitive advantage their cheap currency provides.

The SNB was not waging this kind of warfare. In printing francs it was keeping its currency down but not its prices. If its policy had hurt its trading partners, they were free to retaliate by printing more money themselves. This tit-for-tat monetary easing would not have resulted in a zero-sum scramble for a fixed amount of global demand. It would instead have helped to increase world demand, in a process of mutually-assured reflation.

The Swiss policy was not, then, protectionist in intent, nor was it unsustainble. It exposed the Swiss National Bank to a loss of face, but not to a financial loss of any great economic consequence. I believe currency pegs remain a legitimate monetary choice—as long as central banks allow prices to adjust accordingly—if not always a wise one. I also think the removal of the Swiss cap was unnecessarily disruptive. The SNB must now find a new way to fend off deflation. And West Ham must find a new sponsor for its kit.

Disclaimer: This article does not represent investment advice or any kind of professional counsel, nor does it represent an offer to buy or sell securities or investment services. The opinions, which are subject to change, are those of the author not BNY Mellon Investment Management.

Source: http://www.economist.com/blogs/freeexchange/2015/01/switzerlands-monetary-policy

Free exchange: An incurable disease

HEALTH-CARE expenditure in America is growing at a disturbing rate: in 1960 it was just over 5% of GDP, in 2011 almost 18%. By 2105 the number could reach 60%, according to William Baumol of New York University’s Stern School of Business. Incredible? It is simply the result of extrapolating the impact of a phenomenon Mr Baumol has become famous for identifying: “cost disease”. His new book* gives a nuanced diagnosis, offerings both a vision of a high-cost future and a large dose of optimism. The cost disease may be incurable, but it is also survivable—if treated correctly.

To understand the cost disease, start with a simple observation: whatever the economy’s average rate of productivity growth, some industries outpace others. Take car manufacturing. In 1913 Ford introduced assembly lines to move cars between workstations. This allowed workers, and their tools, to stay in one place, which cut the time to build a Model T car from 12 hours to less than two. As output per worker grows in such “progressive” sectors, firms can afford to increase wages.

In some sectors of the economy, however, such productivity gains are much harder to come by—if not impossible. Performing a Mozart quartet takes just as long in 2012 as it did in the late 18th century. Mr Baumol calls industries in which productivity growth is low or even non-existent “stagnant”.

Employers in such sectors face a problem: they also need to increase their wages so workers don’t defect. The result is that, although output per worker rises only slowly or not at all, wages go up as fast as they do in the rest of the economy. As the costs of production in stagnant sectors rise, firms are forced to raise prices. These increases are faster than those in sectors where productivity is improving, and faster than inflation (which blends together all the prices in the economy). So prices of goods from stagnant sectors must rise in real terms. Hence “cost disease”.

The disease is most virulent in industries where standardisation and automation are hard. The best examples are goods tailored to meet customer-specific demands, such as bespoke suits and haircuts. But Mr Baumol focuses on industries in which the cost disease is rife because human interaction is important, such as health care, education and the performing arts. Because it is often human input that makes the products of these industries valuable, cutting labour would be self-defeating.

Historical data confirm that the cost disease is real. Since the 1980s the price of university education in America has risen by 440% and the cost of medical care by 250%. For the economy as a whole, the average price and wage increases were only 110% and 150% respectively (see left-hand chart). Mr Baumol’s theory makes for scary extrapolations. America’s health-care spending as a share of GDP, for instance, is growing by around 1.4% a year. If it continued to expand at this rate for a century, it would rise to that eye-popping figure of 60% in 2105.

Although America leads the pack in medical inflation, it is not the only country that is infected. In Japan health-care spending per person grew by 5.7% a year in real terms between 1960 and 2006; in Britain it rose by 3.5% a year over the same period. Applying Mr Baumol’s logic, health-care spending in both countries could, if nothing was done about it, rise from around 10% of GDP to more than 50% in the next 100 years.

Fortunately, possibilities abound to mitigate the impact of the cost disease. Cutting waste in health care can shift down the level of spending. Though this is no cure, it does mean costs grow from a lower base when the disease inevitably takes hold. And innovation will mean that activities within the stagnant sector, like hand-delivered post, can be replaced by alternatives where productivity improvements are more likely, like texts and e-mail.

Rising costs will also encourage hard thinking about whether a personal and tailored touch is needed. If not, productivity gains are easier to find. In some areas of medicine computers now have better diagnostic skills than humans. In education lectures can be recorded, allowing star academics to teach millions. In the arts live opera performances are beamed to audiences in cinemas across the world.

A bigger slice of a much bigger pie

But that still leaves a rump of services within medicine, education and the arts that are resistant to productivity gains. For these, Mr Baumol offers his most intriguing prediction: although their costs will grow alarmingly high, they will remain affordable. In a way, the disease produces its own cure. If America’s economy grows by 2% per year (its long-term rate), it will be eight times bigger in 100 years. In addition, goods and services in innovative sectors will become much cheaper. In 1908 the average American had to work for around 4,700 hours to earn enough to buy a Model T Ford. A century later, a typical car can be had for only 1,365 hours of labour. This means that, even if health care really did eat up 60% of the pie, there would still be much more to spend on everything else (see right-hand chart).

The real problem is not the cost disease, Mr Baumol argues, but knee-jerk reactions to it. The most likely response to spiralling budgets for publicly provided medicine and education is to shift provision to the private sector. But that will not cure the underlying disease. High costs could also lead to excessive rationing, slowing development over the long term.

If it happens, such a reaction rests on a mistaken premise: that the rising costs in the stagnant sectors make people poorer. In fact, buying power is growing much faster than medicine, education and the arts are becoming dearer. Mr Baumol’s crystal ball says that in 100 years a live performance of a Mozart quartet will be vastly more expensive, but people will still be able to afford it.

Source: http://www.economist.com/node/21563714 

Currencies: The weak shall inherit the earth

OVER most of history, most countries have wanted a strong currency—or at least a stable one. In the days of the gold standard and the Bretton Woods system, governments made great efforts to maintain exchange-rate pegs, even if the interest rates needed to do so prompted economic downturns. Only in exceptional economic circumstances, such as those of the 1930s and the 1970s, were those efforts deemed too painful and the pegs abandoned.

In the wake of the global financial crisis, though, strong and stable are out of fashion. Many countries seem content for their currencies to depreciate. It helps their exporters gain market share and loosens monetary conditions. Rather than taking pleasure from a rise in their currency as a sign of market confidence in their economic policies, countries now react with alarm. A strong currency can not only drive exporters bankrupt—a bourn from which the subsequent lowering of rates can offer no return—it can also, by forcing down import prices, create deflation at home. Falling incomes are bad news in a debt crisis.

Thus when traders piled into the Swiss franc in the early years of the financial crisis, seeing it as a sound alternative to the euro’s travails and America’s money-printing, the Swiss got worried. In the late 1970s a similar episode prompted the Swiss to adopt negative interest rates, charging a fee to those who wanted to open a bank account. This time, the Swiss National Bank has gone even further. It has pledged to cap the value of the currency at SFr1.20 to the euro by creating new francs as and when necessary. Shackling a currency this way is a different sort of endeavour from supporting one. Propping a currency up requires a central bank to use up finite foreign exchange reserves; keeping one down just requires the willingness to issue more of it.

When one country cuts off the scope for currency appreciation, traders inevitably look for a new target. Thus policies in one country create ripples that in turn affect other countries and their policies.

The Bank of Japan’s latest programme of quantitative easing (QE) has, like most of the unconventional monetary policy being tried around the world, a number of different objectives. But one is to counteract an unwelcome new appetite for the yen among traders responding to policies which have made other currencies less appealing. Other things being equal, the increase in money supply that a bout of quantitative easing brings should make that currency worth less to other people, and thus lower the exchange rate.

Ripple gets a raspberry

Other things, though, are not always or even often equal, as the history of currencies and unconventional monetary policy over the past few years makes clear. In Japan’s case, a drop in the value of the yen in response to the new round of QE would be against the run of play. Japan has conducted QE programmes at various times since 2001 and the yen is much stronger now than when it started.

Nor has QE’s effect on other currencies been what traders might at first have expected. The first American round was in late 2008; at the time the dollar was rising sharply (see chart). The dollar is regarded as the “safe haven” currency; investors flock to it when they are worried about the outlook for the global economy. Fears were at their greatest in late 2008 and early 2009 after the collapse of Lehman Brothers, an investment bank, in September 2008. The dollar then fell again once the worst of the crisis had passed.

The second round of QE had more straightforward effects. It was launched in November 2010 and the dollar had fallen by the time the programme finished in June 2011. But this fall might have been down to investor confidence that the central bank’s actions would revive the economy and that it was safe to buy riskier assets; over the same period, the Dow Jones Industrial Average rose while Treasury bond prices fell.

After all this, though, the dollar remains higher against both the euro and the pound than it was when Lehman collapsed. This does not mean that the QE was pointless; it achieved the goal of loosening monetary conditions at a time when rate cuts were no longer possible. The fact that it didn’t also lower exchange rates simply shows that no policies act in a vacuum. Any exchange rate is a relative valuation of two currencies. Traders had their doubts about the dollar, but the euro was affected by the fiscal crisis and by doubts over the currency’s very survival. Meanwhile, Britain had also been pursuing QE and was slipping back into recession. David Bloom, a currency strategist at HSBC, a bank, draws a clear lesson from all this. “The implications of QE on currency are not uniform and are based on market perceptions rather than some mechanistic link.”

In part because of the advent of all this unconventional monetary policy, foreign-exchange markets have been changing the way they think and operate. In economic textbooks currency movements counter the differences in nominal interest rates between countries so that investors get the same returns on similarly safe assets whatever the currency. But experience over the past 30 years has shown that this is not reliably the case. Instead short-term nominal interest-rate differentials have persistently reinforced currency movements; traders would borrow money in a currency with low interest rates, and invest the proceeds in a currency with high rates, earning a spread (the carry) in the process. Between 1979 and 2009 this “carry trade” delivered a positive return in every year bar three.

Now that nominal interest rates in most developed markets are close to zero, there is less scope for the carry trade. Even the Australian dollar, one of the more reliable sources of higher income, is losing its appeal. The Reserve Bank of Australia cut rates to 3.25% on October 2nd, in response to weaker growth, and the Aussie dollar’s strength is now subsiding.

So instead of looking at short-term interest rates that are almost identical, investors are paying more attention to yield differentials in the bond markets. David Woo, a currency strategist at Bank of America Merrill Lynch, says that markets are now moving on real (after inflation) interest rate differentials rather than the nominal gaps they used to heed. While real rates in America and Britain are negative, deflation in Japan and Switzerland means their real rates are positive—hence the recurring enthusiasm for their currencies.

The existence of the euro has also made a difference to the way markets operate. Europe was dogged by currency instability from the introduction of floating rates in the early 1970s to the creation of the euro in 1999. Various attempts to fix one European currency against each other, such as the Exchange Rate Mechanism, crumbled in the face of divergent economic performances in the countries concerned.

European leaders thought they had outsmarted the markets by creating the single currency. But the divergent economic performances continued, and were eventually made manifest in the bond markets. At the moment, if you want to predict future movements in the euro/dollar rate, the level of Spanish and Italian bond yields is a pretty good indicator; rising yields tend to lead to a falling euro.

The reverse is also true. Unconventional interventions by the European Central Bank (ECB) over the past few years might have been expected to weaken the currency, because the bank was seen as departing from its customary hardline stance. They haven’t because they have normally occurred when the markets were most worried about a break-up of the currency, and thus when the euro was already at its weakest. The launch of the Securities Market Programme in May 2010 (when the ECB started to buy Spanish and Italian bonds), and Mario Draghi’s pledge to “do whatever it takes”, including unlimited bond purchases, in July 2012 were followed by periods of euro strength because they reduced fears that the currency was about to collapse.

Currency war, what is it good for?

Currency trading is, by its nature, a zero-sum game. For some to fall, others must rise. The various unorthodox policies of developed nations have not caused their currencies to fall relative to one another in the way people might have expected. This could be because all rich-country governments have adopted such policies, at least to some extent. But it would not be surprising if rich-world currencies were to fall against those of developing countries.

In September 2010 Guido Mantega, the Brazilian finance minister, claimed that this was not just happening, but that it was deliberate and unwelcome: a currency war had begun between the North and the South. The implication was that the use of QE was a form of protectionism, aimed at stealing market share from the developing world. The Brazilians followed up his statement with taxes on currency inflows (see Free Exchange).

But the evidence for Mr Mantega’s case is pretty shaky. The Brazilian real is lower than it was when he made his remarks (see chart). The Chinese yuan has been gaining value against the dollar since 2010 while the Korean won rallied once risk appetites recovered in early 2009. But on a trade-weighted basis (which includes many developing currencies in the calculation), the dollar is almost exactly where it was when Lehman Brothers collapsed.

Many developing countries have export-based economic policies. So that their currencies do not rise too quickly against the dollar, thus pricing their exports out of the market, these countries manage their dollar exchange rates, formally or informally. The result is that loose monetary policy in America ends up being transmitted to the developing world, often in the form of lower interest rates. By boosting demand, the effect shows up in higher commodity prices. Gold has more than doubled in price since Lehman collapsed and has recently reached a record high against the euro. Some investors fear that QE is part of a general tendency towards the debasement of rich-world currencies that will eventually stoke inflation.

The odd thing, however, is that the old rule that high inflation leads to weak exchange rates is much less reliable than it used to be. It holds true in extreme cases, such as Zimbabwe during its hyperinflationary period. But a general assumption that countries with high inflation need a lower exchange rate to keep their exports competitive is not well supported by the evidence—indeed the reverse appears to be the case. Elsa Lignos of RBC Capital Markets has found that, over the past 20 years, investing in high-inflation currencies and shorting low-inflation currencies has been a consistently profitable strategy.

The main reason seems to be a version of the carry trade. Countries with higher-than-average inflation rates tend to have higher-than-average nominal interest rates. Another factor is that trade imbalances do not seem to be the influence that once they were. America’s persistent deficit does not seem to have had much of an impact on exchange rates in recent years: nor does Japan’s steadily shrinking surplus, or the euro zone’s generally positive aggregate trade position.

 

In short, foreign-exchange markets no longer punish things that used to be regarded as bad economic behaviour, like high inflation and poor trade performance. That may help explain why governments are now focusing on other priorities than pleasing the currency markets, such as stabilising their financial sectors and reducing unemployment. Currencies only matter if they get in the way of those goals.

Source: http://www.economist.com/node/21564210

Making no cents

FAREWELL to the Canadian penny. The last one-cent coin, in circulation ever since Canada developed its own currency in 1858, was minted on May 4th. The coin had become a nuisance, weighing down consumers’ wallets and costing more to produce than it was worth.

The penny is just the latest in a series of coins to disappear after centuries of use. The British farthing was worth just a quarter of an old penny, or one-960th of a pound, but it still lasted almost 700 years before it disappeared from circulation in 1960. Remarkably enough, half-farthings were also issued in the 19th century, and even smaller coins (third- and quarter-farthings) were used abroad.

Inflation killed the farthing just as it has killed the Canadian cent. Small coins are living on borrowed time once they become useless for buying individual items. A single penny could buy the first British postage stamp, the Penny Black, in 1840 and was still sufficient to buy a small ice cream for a short-trousered Buttonwood in the late 1960s. Nowadays you would struggle to find a humble ice lolly selling for less than a pound.

By the time the farthing disappeared, Britain was entering its most rapid period of peacetime inflation. In 1971 decimalisation followed, under which the smallest coin was the halfpenny (one-200th of a pound). It lasted only 13 years before it was abandoned. Even when governments do not abolish coins, a market solution may emerge. In Italy, before euro adoption, almost all items cost so many thousands of lire that shopkeepers and restaurants stopped handing over small amounts of change, offering customers sweets instead.

Coins are not the only casualties of monetary history. The old British ten-shilling note disappeared in 1969, replaced by the new 50-pence piece. The one-pound note, which had been around for almost 200 years, was replaced by a coin in 1988. In those cases, wear and tear was to blame. The coins lasted 50 times as long.

Sometimes the whole currency gets redenominated. The French franc was worth around a fifth of the dollar just before the first world war. It attained the same exchange rate in the 1960s. In the meantime, however, two zeros had been knocked off the face value of French bank notes: 100 old francs became 1 new one. In effect, the franc had lost 99% of its value (and that against a dollar with a reduced purchasing power against gold).

But the rise in metal prices, itself a symptom of inflation, does for coins in the end. Nowadays melting down coins to exploit the potential for arbitrage is often illegal, but in the Middle Ages it was standard practice. As a result the content of the farthing, which was once made of silver, was steadily switched to cheaper copper, tin and bronze.

The Canadian government is presenting the decision to abolish the penny as a matter of public economy: the move will save C$11m ($11m) a year in production and distribution costs. There have been calls for the American penny, which costs 2.4 cents to produce, to follow suit. But that would mean greater use of the nickel (five cents), which is even less economic to produce, at 11.2 cents for each coin. Tradition, and a public suspicion of such government initiatives, have saved the penny so far.

These losses are offset by the profits each government makes by producing other notes and coins for less than their face value. This profit, known as seigniorage, is one of the great hidden sources of government revenue. Quantitative easing—the ability of central banks to create money with a click of a mouse, and to use the proceeds to buy bonds and reduce the government’s borrowing costs—is potentially an even more lucrative wheeze.

The demise of small coins also owes something, of course, to the move towards electronic money. Retailers have typically priced goods just below a whole number: $9.99, say. In part, that was a measure against fraud: employees were forced to open the till in order to provide the penny change. That is less pertinent these days, when most customers are paying by debit or credit card.

Canadian retailers will presumably want to exploit the psychological appeal of less-than-whole-number pricing, so many will opt for C$9.95 rather than the full C$10. That might make this shift different from the usual experience of consumers—that any currency reform becomes an excuse for higher prices. But history suggests shoppers cannot win in the end. If you don’t look after the pennies, then the pounds (or dollars) will disappear by themselves.

Source: http://www.economist.com/node/21554518

Buttonwood: Pausing for breath

IT IS known as the “reflation trade”. The theory is that rich-world central banks will do whatever it takes to revive their economies, even if that means tolerating a period of above-target inflation. As a result, investors feel an incentive to buy “real assets”, those linked to nominal economic growth (notably equities) or to rising prices (commodities).

From October 4th to March 1st, the MSCI World equity index rose by 21.4% and the S&P GSCI commodity index rose by 23.8%, vigorous rallies by any standard. Bullish sentiment was driven by a sense that quantitative easing (QE), the creation of money to buy assets like government bonds, had become a competitive sport.

America and Britain had been in the vanguard but in September the Swiss central bank pledged to create sufficient money to peg the franc against the euro; and in February the Bank of Japan added {Yen}10 trillion ($128 billion) to its asset-purchase programme and unveiled a target inflation rate of 1%. For its part the European Central Bank has lent more than €1 trillion ($1.3 trillion) in three–year loans to banks, in what is widely seen as a case of QE by the back door.

But the reflation trade took a bit of a dent on February 29th when Ben Bernanke, the Federal Reserve’s chairman, gave no hint of a third round of QE in testimony to Congress. Admittedly, there was a bullish underpinning to Mr Bernanke’s speech: a better performance by the American economy means there is less need for further action. Nevertheless, the Fed is seen as “pump-primer in chief” by many in the markets. Gold fell by $100 an ounce after Mr Bernanke’s statement.

A setback was probably inevitable after such a strong rally. A bigger question, however, is whether the rationale behind the reflation trade makes any sense.

Central banks have undoubtedly expanded their balance-sheets during the crisis. Back in 2008 the monetary base of the euro zone (in effect notes and coins plus reserves held at the region’s central banks) was around 10% of GDP; the equivalent figures for the Federal Reserve and the Bank of England were in the 4-6% range. Now the monetary base in all three places is between 16% and 18% of GDP.

However, expansion of the monetary base does not necessarily lead to growth in broad money, which measures the supply of credit to businesses and consumers and which ultimately drives inflation. Money-supply growth still looks sluggish in Britain, Japan and the euro zone (see chart). Only in America does it look robust.

The problem is that many banks remain unwilling to extend credit given the need, among other things, to shore up their capital. Figures show that total euro-zone lending to households and non-financial firms has declined in recent months, despite the ECB’s actions. Dhaval Joshi of BCA Research says that “banks have destroyed money just as fast as the ECB has created it.” Jennifer McKeown of Capital Economics concludes from the data that “bank lending remains extremely weak, suggesting that a lack of credit will continue to hold back economic activity.”

In short, the reflation trade may be based on a false premise. The rally may well have been driven by a lifting of the intense economic gloom that enveloped the markets in the autumn of 2011 and a sense that the European authorities had removed the immediate threat of a banking collapse, while simultaneously halting the rapid rise in Italian and Spanish government-bond yields. But now that investors have paused for breath, they can see that the economic outlook is still pretty murky. On March 5th, for example, China lowered its growth target to 7.5% (see later story); survey data on activity in the euro area’s services sector were also weaker than expected.

Furthermore, the markets are starting to lose a key source of support. As the global economy emerged from recession in 2009, profit margins surged thanks to falls in borrowing costs and weak wage growth. But European profits are down by 7% compared with the previous year, according to HSBC. Even in America, which is doing rather better, Bank of America Merrill Lynch is expecting corporate profits for S&P 500 companies to grow by just 6.4% in 2012, down from 14.8% last year.

It all looks remarkably like 2011, when an early-year rally also ran out of steam. So long as the yields on other assets like bonds and cash are so low, it is hard for stockmarkets to collapse. But those yields are so low because central banks are frightened about the economic outlook. That makes it very hard for a bull run to be sustained.

Source: http://www.economist.com/node/21549966