Another Tea Party?

The Boston Tea Party is an early example of how a trade dispute can reshape an economy (Boston) and foment political change. It is iconic enough that the first presidency of Donald Trump was prefigured by the rise of the Tea Party as a disruptive force in Republican politics.

With the presidential election not far off now, tariffs form the spear-end of Donald Trump’s economic strategy, potentially because he can implement them unilaterally (without the approval of the Senate). In addition, many of his acolytes, from Robert Lighthizer to Peter Navarro, are ‘trade’ obsessed, and have recently published books like ‘No Trade is Free‘ to underline the ways in which they would re-order the international trade system.

In addition, other members of the Trump entourage such as Robert O’Brien, the National Security Adviser (2019-21) has in the July edition of Foreign Affairs Journal invoked the idea that American can bring peace to a disordered world through ‘strength’. In this vision, strength comes in the form of 60% tariffs on Chinese goods and export controls, a message that has repeatedly been emphasised by Trump himself.

In that context, a second Trump presidency could begin with a trade war, and a verbal assault on the currencies of ostensible allies that have weakened in recent years, such as the yen. American consumers and potentially the bond market might pay the price of tariffs (we wrote last week that Trump wanted to fund the development of a sovereign wealth fund with revenues from tariffs).

Trade wars are generally not successful, and while Trump may have in mind America’s trade spats with Japan (1987), the weight of past trade disputes going back to the Smooth Hawley Act suggest that there are better ways to guard American economic power. China could respond with measures that cripple supply chains for at least a couple of years. In this scenario, a trade confrontation between the US and China would decisively shatter the axis of globalisation as we know it, and finally render the WTO (World Trade Organisation) obsolete.

A US-China trade war might have many other consequences.

One might be the rise of populous south Asian (and southeast Asian) from India to Bangladesh to Pakistan, Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam, with Singapore as their organising locus. Many of these countries are urbanising and rolling out infrastructure, most of them need but distrust China, and in most cases aspire to closer commercial ties to the USA. Tariffs on China by the USA will accelerate supply chain de-risking by Western multinationals towards these countries, though this could well complicate their relationship with China.

A second consideration is Europe. The EU has been caught by surprise by the consequences of several Biden administration policies – the Inflation Reduction Act and the CHIPS Act – which illustrates that US international trade policy is usually made with a view to domestic politics. A second Trump presidency should be no surprise to Brussels, and there is a small but important team of officials working on a policy response to a potential trade war on Europe by Trump. Europe’s trump card may lie in its role as a partner with the US against China. It will be difficult for Washington to reshape trade relations with China, Europe and potentially Japan by taking each one on. Stymieing China is better done in collaboration with Japan and Europe, and Trump should really see the constraints of the policy situation that faces him.

A second Trump presidency will be different to the first in the sense that he has had time to prepare for it, and crucially, his supporters have had four years to concoct a policy strategy (‘2025’ seems to have dropped out of headlines). In the same way, a Harris presidency comes with deeper reserves of policy experts, and to a large sense on the international trade and economic outlook, the Harris case represents ‘more of the same’ in terms of the techn0-strategic economic policy that is currently pursued by the White House.

An idealised, and though I like the idea a lot, too lofty rendition of this policy is Walter Russell’s Mead’s September Foreign Affairs essay entitled ‘The Return of Hamiltonian Statecraft’ which argues for the very un-Trumpian notion of ‘enlightened patriotism’.

In this context, a Harris White House would use trade and investment policy to laser focus on America’s race with China for global supremacy. Driving Chinese economic and investment activity further inwards might be one goal, and ironically anything Washington can do to make Chinese public life more closed and repressive, the better (because it curbs innovation and wealth creation).

At the same time, the US and Europe, would both pursue parallel strategies of ‘strategic autonomy’ or what Trump refers to as ‘strategic national manufacturing’ focused on sectors like defence, new computing power (quantum, AI, data storage and management), batteries and new power sources and revolutionary medicine. Europe’s challenge is to find a way of reducing long-term energy costs.

Kamala Harris, who has trialled a few incoherent policies (taxes on unrealised capital gains, price controls) is likely to be more constrained in her fiscal policy – because her government is likely to instinctively focus more on tax and spending changes, for which she will need the help of the Senate (which in turn could tilt towards the Republicans). As such her fiscal policy will focus on not increasing the national debt, and like many other governments, encouraging the private sector to work with government to build out strategic technologies.

I am so far surprised that markets do not seem to price in uncertainty over trade policy, possibly because they are more focused on falling interest rates in the US, Europe and China. However, the next month will start to reveal how seriously financial markets take economic rhetoric of each of the presidential candidates.

Building Sovereign Debt Funds

One of the attractions of elections is that they throw up new ideas and policy proposals – and it is not unkind to say that one increasingly gets the impression of politicians throwing suggestions at the ‘policy wall’ to see what sticks. Aggressive tariffs on China and taxes on unrealised capital gains are two examples from the US.

One idea that Democrats and Republicans share is the proposed establishment of a sovereign wealth fund in the US. In the case of Donald Trump, his aim is to fund it with tariff revenues, whilst the Democrats conceive a sovereign wealth fund that might take stakes in firms in strategic industries, which is a very French idea (recalling the ‘strategic yogurt policy’ of 2005). The flaw in this particular idea, is that there is in fact no money to capitalise such a fund.

In stark contrast, I recall the last time Washington pondered a sovereign wealth fund was at the end of the Clinton presidency, when Treasury Secretary Bob Rubin had in a financial ‘end of history’ moment engineered a fiscal surplus (government earning more than it is spending). At the time, the sense was that surpluses would feed a ‘social security’ sovereign wealth fund, which would allow Americans to enjoy a prosperous retirement.

What is striking is that if you look at the history of America’s financial health, the Rubin/Clinton surplus is an anomalous blip. Since then, the US has registered nearly a quarter of a century of deficits, which irregardless of the level of growth of the economy, seem to get bigger (relative to the economy) every year. These burgeoning deficits are starting to take their toll on the US (and I should mention that many other large developed economies – Britain and France prominently so), as its debt level rises beyond 100% to GDP (expected to hit 122% in 2035). It is a very odd situation. In textbook economics, large deficits tend to exist in times of war, recession or crisis. As such, if any of these occurs, there will be scant room for governments to help the economy (and rescue plans may become a trial of strength of central banks).

That’s not all. Readers will sense that I am writing more and more about indebtedness, and it is indeed becoming a preoccupation of mine. The idea of the ‘Age of Debt’ is that debt is becoming pervasive, and as a factor will weigh on geopolitics, the tenor of political debates and the shaping of the financial markets of the future.

In that context, once we get beyond the rise of election campaigns and into 2025, governments will have to jettison dreams of sovereign wealth funds and instead subject themselves to debt sustainability analysis. It is akin to a household giving up a dream of buying a second home as their bank manager demands that the mortgage and credit card balance are paid off first.

Debt sustainability analysis is one of those arcane activities in economics, and I can count at least three friends who can run their own debt sustainability models, which is not something I should readily admit. The essence of debt sustainability analysis is that the future debt load (and its precariousness) of a country are driven by a set of factors – the rate at which a government spends, the inflation adjusted interest rate it pays, growth and demographics. These factors are inter-related – borrowing that is deployed to productive investment can produce growth and thus reduce the risks associated with debt for instance. Today, the rapid acceleration in the indebtedness of many countries, low growth and ebbing demographics are some of the factors that make debt increasingly unsustainable.

If that was a reasonably technical explanation, the best parallel I can think of to communicate debt sustainability is climate sustainability – or at least both sets of analysis point to a world that is heating up, and where there is relatively little reaction to this. Debt and climate sustainability analyses are long-term processes, and my sense is that governments gladly ignore them, until they become immediately problematic.

That is beginning to happen. France’s bond spread (over Germany) is elevated, and British bond yields are close to 4%. Neither country can afford to increase debt levels. The same is true for Canada. In the US, next February will see the installation of the new Treasury Secretary, and he or she will have the difficult task of telling the next President that there is no money in the kitty.

As such, the establishment of sovereign wealth funds is a distant, fluffy dream for most governments. A violent lesson here is that Ireland had a sovereign wealth fund in the early 2000’s, but it was swallowed up in the consequences of the euro-zone financial crisis, and is only now being re-established.

For those sovereign wealth funds that exist – in Norway or Saudi Arabia – the next trade may not be to buy quoted equities and private equity, but to either buy the discounted debt of developed countries when they have their sustainability crisis, or to engage in private lending to them. When that happens, a new shift in geoeconomic power will be under way.

Have a great week ahead,

Mike

Samuelson vs. Sahm

Next week the Federal Reserve will very likely cut interest rates, for the first time since the COVID related rate cutting cycle. Recall of course that at the end of this speedy sets of cuts, most of the leading central banks had declared inflation to be ‘transitory’. The Fed cut will come on the back of a series of rate cuts from ‘elder’ central banks – the Bank of England, Riksbank and the Swiss National Bank, as well as the European Central Bank from whom we had another rate cut last week.

The anticipated move by the Federal Reserve is instructive in several respects. Market based interest rates are lower than Fed rates and many investors expect (or rather crave) the Fed to make a 50 basis point cut, as opposed to a ‘standard’ one of 25 basis points. At the weekend, the lead headline in the Financial Times read ‘Investors raise bets on bumper half-point Fed rate cut’.

This is yet another sign of monetary addiction – the result of the conditioning of investors to financial liquidity. In mid-August, following a dip in the stock market, I wrote that the idea of the ‘Fed put’ – the notion that the Fed would react to a fall in asset prices by cutting rates – is very much alive in markets.

The market dip led several seasoned and apparently credible investors to call for an emergency cut in rates. However, the Fed has only ever taken such dramatic action in the thick of deep crises (LTCM/Russian economic collapse, the dot.com collapse, 9/11, the global financial crisis and the COVID crisis). Similarly, it has not begun a rate cutting cycle with a 50 basis point cut, outside of financial crises. There is no financial crisis today (though plenty of mounting financial risks such as very high debt levels), but a crisis of expectations.

That crisis of expectations is at play as investors position for the Fed meeting next week. In my experience, the Fed is, in normal economic conditions, a cautious and slow-moving beast, and it would be untypical for them to begin a rate cutting phase with an outsized rate cut. To do so would suggest that they are in a hurry to correct a mistake of their own making.

To the extent that investor behaviour demands a 50-basis point cut, this recalls the quip from Paul Samuelson, the first winner of the Nobel Prize in Economics, that the market has predicted nine out of the last five recessions.

Set against this apparent concern by investors (do they fear a recession or desire lower rates?) is a debate around a relatively new economic rule of thumb called the Sahm Rule, named after research by economist Claudia Sahm at the Federal Reserve. Her rule states that when the medium-term unemployment rate rises an impending recession is signalled (the three month average of unemployment needs to rise by 50 basis points). It is a surprisingly simple rule that appears to have prefigured eleven US downturns going back to 1953. Sahm’s aim in establishing a reliable rule was that stimulus checks can be sent out at the outset of recessions (as opposed to waiting for GDP data to indicate a recession).

I am tempted to trump the Sahm Rule with two observations.

The first is Goodhart’s Law, named after Bank of England and LSE economist Charles Goodhart which states that ‘when a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure’, or more colloquially that fame kills a good model.

More seriously, most of the last ten business cycles were conventional ones, whereas this business cycle bears the scars of reversing demographics, the lingering effects of COVID fiscal policy and labour market distortions (work from home) not to mention the contortions of strategic industrial policy (i.e. the CHIP’s Act, Inflation Reduction Act) and the political ramifications of high inflation and immigration. It is anything but a typical business cycle, and very hard to read.

Somewhat unusually at this stage in the cycle government finances are weak (from France to the US) whilst the large corporates of the Western world are in a generally healthy financial state. Of the major economies, China poses the greatest risk to the downside in the near-term.

With different components of the US economy moving in different directions, my expectation is for a slowdown than a deeper recession (this may eventually come at the end of 2025 if inflation rises again). Equally, I expect the Fed to make a series of rate cuts rather than deep cutting cycle. If that view is correct, the interest rates market will be very volatile, as investors periodically over react to data points and price in ‘booms’ and busts’.

Expect a market tantrum next week with investors complaining that the Fed is behind the curve. Samuelson would tell us that the curve has got it wrong.

Have a great week ahead,

Mike

The Tech Coup

In 2018, Pavel Durov the founder of messaging app Telegram, dined with Emmanuel Macron, and for his troubles was later awarded a French passport. Durov should have known that as a French citizen, the state will get you at some stage in your life, and so last week he was arrested in France. Durov’s story is layered with intrigue, and it is not immediately obvious what strategy is being played out here.

At the same time, it is one of a growing number of tales that illustrate what will be one of the great trends of the 21^st century, the tension between the power generated by technology and its effect on democracy. Other examples are the disputes between Elon Musk and diverse governments (the UK and Brazil), the difficult passage of the Californian AI Bill, and the apparent Department of Justice antitrust probe into Nvidia.

Equally, technology weighs on many public policy debates now – such as the access to mobile phones in schools, the demands that data centres place on electricity grids and the TikTok-ification of politics.

Technology is a source of wealth, economic growth and power. The historic outperformance of large US technology firms on the stock market is a manifestation of the first effect, while the ways in which governments in what could politely be termed less than democratic governments crave the means by which they can use technology (notably social media) to marshall their citizens is worrying. The countries of the MENA region post the Arab Spring are an example, and of course China is the benchmark here. Democracies at least, have better instincts, and most of them are trying to curb the negative side-effects of the power of technology firms and entrepreneurs.

However, many of them find the burden of oversight frustrating.

One of the striking debates I participated in over the summer was the Rencontres Economiques, where across a range of European policy makers there was great frustration at the dictum ‘America innovates, China replicates and Europe regulates’. In particular, there is frustration in Europe at the relatively shallow pools of capital available to scale up technology firms, but it must be said few politicians are willing to do much to help.

Europeans are vexed with the view that their competence is in regulation, rather than innovation, but I am beginning to wonder if Europe has in fact gotten out in front, notably so with its EU AI Act.

The EU AI Act is only just coming into operation, and it has its flaws, but its strength is that it is based on a broad, clear framework. In contrast, what is starting to become clear in the US is that in the absence of legislation (Senator Chuck Schumer’s AI regulatory initiative is seen as a ‘roadmap’) the effort to curb the power of large social media and AI firms on society will be piece-meal, and as a result much less efficient and more costly (since news of the anti-trust probe into Nvidia it has lost close to USD 700bn in value).

I suspect for instance there will be a lot more civil and corporate legal cases to establish the ownership of data-sets and the access to them by AI engines, as is the case between the New York Times and OpenAI.

At the same time, the lack of a regulatory framework to steer the development of AI and social media risks tension between different arms of the state. In the US the Department of Justice is taking aim at a range of social media sites that are suspected of coming under Russian influence, and the antitrust investigation into Nvidia risks cutting across the Biden administration’s security driven economic policy.

Many of these contradictions and challenges are laid out in an excellent, new book entitled ‘The Tech Coup’ by Marietje Schaake that, whilst written in the US, has a decidedly European tone (the author was an MEP). She argues for a more precautionary approach to the mass roll out of new technologies, with specific limits on technologies like spyware, facial recognition systems and crypto-currencies, and much greater transparency on the uses and finance of AI. These are sensible proposals, but likely the very opposite of what Donald Trump might instigate as a set of policies.

Thus, the tension between democracy and the power of technology will intensify – driven by at least two factors. The first is the geostrategic importance of technology – in particular data consuming and content producing technologies (which explains why the US has been so keen to limit the power of China’s TikTok).

The second, which many legal frameworks have great difficulty in encompassing, is the arrival of the ‘tech bro’, wealthy individuals, who consider themselves above the law, and in some cases, beyond common decency. While some politicians seem dazzled by these ‘bros’.

Democratic states should not bend to their wills and as a rule, democratic states tend to outlast tycoons.

Have a great week ahead, Mike