Bernanke Confronts the Kondratieff Winter at His Feast of Malinvestment

Here is some cultural diversion for a slow trading day.

Although this is not the best performance, it has subtitles in English which is a plus when trying to draw parallels for an audience unlikely to be fluent in Italian, or familiar with the libretto. This staging does not quite show it as vividly as some others I have seen, but at the end of the scene the ghost of the Commendatore drags Don Giovanni with him into hell. In this opera Leporello, the common man, escapes the fate of his master. In our analogy, I am afraid Don Bernanke may be dragging the common people along with him.

The SP is suspended in a tight range, with the big resistance at 1180 and support at 1155.

This is a holy week for Christians and Jews, and trading is light. The market is waiting for the Jobs Report on Friday, April 2. It would probably have been more appropriate to bring it on on April 1 (April Fool's Day).

I'm looking for a positive headline number of about 76,000, but it could be higher if they knock down the prior months in revision and move the jobs gains forward.

Discussion of market manipulation in the SP futures is becoming more open, with the noting of the propping in the SP futures becoming very pronounced. An exogenous shock could send the US equities markets into an air pocket. But those are tough odds to play.

The World Gold Council has finally acknowledged that China is becoming a big buyer of gold bullion, and this trend is likely to gain momentum. Despite their name, the WGC is the most timid and reserved of industry associations ever seen, often downplaying their own industry to a fault.

Memories of a Walk on the Appian Way, Some Years Ago

About 18 years ago during a trip to Rome with my wife, who was then pregnant with my son, I visited the room in which the English poet John Keats died of consumption, just off to the left of the Spanish Steps, looking down into the Piazza di Spagna. The year before I visited the house in Hampstead Heath at which he is said to have written, "Ode to a Nightingale."

Later that day we visited his gravesite in the Cimitero degli Inglesi, and read the inscription on his tombstone.

This Grave contains all that was mortal, of a Young English Poet, who on his Death Bed, in the Bitterness of his heart, at the Malicious Power of his enemies, desired these words to be Engraven on his Tomb Stone: Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water.

I think we may afterwards have taken a bus, because I remember being vaguely scandalized at the disorder of the ticket process, which was apparently used only by tourists on their way to the catacombs. But at some point we reached the ancient wall of the city, and continued walking through the Porta San Sebastiano, south on the Via Applia in search of an old restaurant at which I desired to have our customary late lunch after a morning of rigorous walking. After a little while on the road we came to a small but very charming church, the Chiesa di Santa Maria in Palmis, but more commonly known as Chiesa del Domine Quo Vadis. I went inside, and to my surprise, this was the place referenced by Henryk Sienkiewicz in his famous book, Quo Vadis.

Old cities and places are full of a mixture of legend and history. I imagine that the story upon which the novel was based was one of those oral traditions that are handed down and embellished over time, not having been codified and fixed into a proper text, which as you may recall is how the Bible was brought together from a myriad of writings and authors.

I have to admit that it was a moving experience, to visit the places where these things are likely to have occurred in whatever particular way. The scoffers have a little less swagger since Heinrich Schliemann found the site of Troy from the text of Homer. It reminds us that Keats, and Peter, and Nero, and Petronius, and so many other figures remembered were real people, making decisions with confusion, worries, concerns, fears, and the rest of the issues that we all have today.

Here is the relevant section from Synkewicz's book.

"About dawn of the following day two dark figures were moving along the Appian Way toward the Campania.

One of them was Nazarius; the other the Apostle Peter, who was leaving Rome and his martyred co-religionists.

The sky in the east was assuming a light tinge of green, bordered gradually and more distinctly on the lower edge with saffron color. Silver-leafed trees, the white marble of villas, and the arches of aqueducts, stretching through the plain toward the city, were emerging from shade. The greenness of the sky was clearing gradually, and becoming permeated with gold. Then the east began to grow rosy and illuminate the Adban Hills, which seemed marvellously beautiful, lily-colored, as if formed of rays of light alone.

The light was reflected in trembling leaves of trees, in the dew-drops. The haze grew thinner, opening wider and wider views on the plain, on the houses dotting it, on the cemeteries, on the towns, and on groups of trees, among which stood white columns of temples.

The road was empty. The villagers who took vegetables to the city had not succeeded yet, evidently, in harnessing beasts to their vehicles. From the stone blocks with which the road was paved as far as the mountains, there came a low sound from the bark shoes on the feet of the two travellers.

Then the sun appeared over the line of hills; but at once a wonderful vision struck the Apostle's eyes. It seemed to him that the golden circle, instead of rising in the sky, moved down from the heights and was advancing on the road. Peter stopped, and asked, --

"See thou that brightness approaching us?"

"I see nothing," replied Nazarius.

But Peter shaded his eyes with his hand, and said after a while,

"Some figure is coming in the gleam of the sun." But not the slightest sound of steps reached their ears. It was perfectly still all around. Nazarius saw only that the trees were quivering in the distance, as if some one were shaking them, and the light was spreading more broadly over the plain. He looked with wonder at the Apostle.

"Rabbi. What ails thee?" cried he, with alarm.

The pilgrim's staff fell from Peter's hands to the earth; his eyes were looking forward, motionless; his mouth was open; on his face were depicted astonishment, delight, rapture.

Then he threw himself on his knees, his arms stretched forward; and this cry left his lips, --

"O Lord! O Lord!"

He fell with his face to the earth, as if kissing some one's feet.

The silence continued long; then were heard the words of the aged man, broken by sobs, --

"Quo vadis, Domine?" (Where are you going, Lord?)

Nazarius did not hear the answer; but to Peter's ears came a sad and sweet voice, which said, --

"If you desert my people, I am going to Rome to be crucified a second time."

The Apostle lay on the ground, his face in the dust, without motion or speech. It seemed to Nazarius that he had fainted or was dead; but he rose at last, seized the staff with trembling hands, and turned without a word toward the seven hills of the city.

The boy, seeing this, repeated as an echo, --

"Quo vadis, Domine?"

"To Rome," said the Apostle, in a low voice.

And he returned.

Paul, John, Linus, and all the faithful received him with amazement; and the alarm was the greater, since at daybreak, just after his departure, praetorians had surrounded Miriam's house and searched it for the Apostle. But to every question he answered only with delight and peace, --

"I have seen the Lord!"

And that same evening he went to the Ostian cemetery to teach and baptize those who wished to bathe in the water of life.

And thenceforward he went there daily, and after him went increasing numbers. It seemed that out of every tear of a martyr new confessors were born, and that every groan on the arena found an echo in thousands of breasts. Caesar was swimming in blood, Rome and the whole pagan world was mad. But those who had had enough of transgression and madness, those who were trampled upon, those whose lives were misery and oppression, all the weighed down, all the sad, all the unfortunate, came to hear the wonderful tidings of God, who out of love for men had given Himself to be crucified and redeem their sins.

When they found a God whom they could love, they had found that which the society of the time could not give any one, -- happiness and love..."

Quo Vadis, by Henryk Sienkiewicz, 1905

It is too bad that it is not read much today, because it is a really charming book. I think it has been made into several movie versions. I liked the one with Klaus Maria Brandauer, although the earlier epic with Robert Taylor and Deborah Kerr is more famous and probably more popular. The novel was a worldwide best seller in its day from about 1906 to 1930. I remember at the time I read it in 1968 enjoying it because of the portrayal of T. Petronius, Nero's Arbiter Elegantiae, who is said to have written the first western novel, The Satyricon. Such as I was, the budding classicist and natural scientist, a new modern man as my teacher and mentor would say.

The world turns to such things, but especially during times of suffering and trouble, when the great men and the masters rise up once again and proclaim their dominion. Perhaps it, or some things like it, will have a revival when the madness is once again unleashed, and The New Rome falls, and the New Temple is sacked.

And where is the Emperor Nero now, the lord of the world, but a memory, returned to the earth as the dirt and dust beneath some young child's fingernails, to be plucked out and discarded with a 'tut tut' by an observantly doting mother.

Whistleblower to CFTC in JPM Silver Manipulation Struck by Hit and Run Car In London

I am glad that although Mr. Maguire and his wife are shaken they will apparently be all right.

The related story on his allegations regarding manipulation in the silver market is here.

It appears they have 'the perp in hand' as the say. This should provide some light. I am prepared to accept this as an accident, of course, but it is one hell of a coincidence if so. It could also be the act of some trader who had a bit too much to drink, and a grudge to bear after the testimony the day before. Or something else altogether.

I hesitate to say anything more at this point, except curiouser and curiouser.

As reported by Adrian Douglas, the Director of GATA who has been the contact for Mr. Andrew T. Maguire, and on the GATA website

"On March 25th at the CFTC Public Hearing on Precious Metals GATA made a dramatic revelation of a whistleblower source, Andrew Maguire, who has first hand evidence of gold and silver market manipulation by JPMorganChase, and who had tipped off the CFTC in advance of manipulation in gold and silver some months ago.

On March 26th while out shopping with his wife in the London area, Mr. Maguire's car was hit by a car careening out of a side road. The driver of the vehicle then tried to escape.

When a pedestrian eye-witness attempted to block the driver's escape he accelerated at him and would have hit him had the pedestrian not jumped out of the way. The car then hit two other cars in escaping. The driver was apprehended by the police after police helicopters were used in a high speed chase.

Andrew and his wife were hospitalized with minor injuries. They were discharged from hospital today and should make a full recovery."

Guest Post: Grading Alan Greenspan

The Maestro and the Hundred Year Flood
By Keith Hazelton, The Anecdotal Economist

Alan Greenspan’s self-serving “The Crisis,” a 66-page white paper outlining exactly why no part of the extant global financial/liquidity/credit/solvency/deleveraging crisis was the fault of the Federal Reserve whose board he chaired for 18 year or anyone or any other entity for that matter, contains among the many exculpatory assertions, a fascinating, if not stupefying, revelation that, in setting capital adequacy levels, reserves and leverage limits, policymakers:

“…have chosen capital standards that by any stretch of the imagination cannot protect against all potential adverse loss outcomes. There is implicit in this exercise the admission that, in certain episodes, problems at commercial banks and other financial institutions, when their risk-management systems prove inadequate, will be handled by central banks. At the same time, society on the whole should require that we set this bar very high. Hundred year floods come only once every hundred years. Financial institutions should expect to look to the central bank only in extremely rare situations.” (p16-17, all emphasis added.).

No sir, Sir Alan. Hundred year floods come on average only once every hundred years, as any undergraduate who has completed Statistics 101 would recognize, presumably based on many centuries of flood observations in a particular locale.

Now we know if one flips a coin 100 million times, a tabulation of heads/tails results likely will yield a result infinitesimally close to 50/50, so that one may conclude, on average, the actual observation results would prove the statistical probability for each flip that the coin lands heads-up is 50 percent (we conveniently are excluding any possibility of the coin landing, say, balanced vertically on edge.)

We also can be confident in such a large observation, however, that low-probability strings of 10, 20 or 30 consecutive heads-up or tails-up results – while extremely unlikely in 100 flips – would, in fact, be commonplace.

That such occurrences have low probabilities, even extremely low probabilities in smaller observation samples, is immaterial. Regardless of the number of observations, even low probability events are bound to occur, and they are neither randomly nor evenly distributed.

Similarly, nature has no constraints as to the frequency of hundred-year floods, only that on average they should occur once every century, but if it pleases nature to generate 10 hundred-year floods in a century, and none for the next 900 years, albeit a low-probability event, such an observation is completely within the framework of reality.

Neither are there constraints, apparently, on the frequency of meltdowns in the complex, deregulated financial environment we have invented and unleashed upon ourselves, even though, unlike nature, we completely are in control of the frequency and regularity of hundred-year financial disasters.

Which is what is so self-serving about the former Fed chief’s term paper. By defaulting to a “stuff-happens-once-every-hundred-years-so-there’s-no-point-in-trying-to-prevent-it-since-the-negative-effects-of-prevention-would-outweigh-the-flood-cleanup-cost” defense, Sir Alan absolves himself, his fellow FOMC decision-makers and Fed economists, successive Congresses and Administrations, the banking and financial system, China, Japan, Germany and, yes, the American “consumer” from any culpability in the generation-long, debt-fueled party which has induced this hundred-year hangover.

It’s also what’s wrong with economics in general. Since macro-economic theories and policies cannot be experimentally verified – we can’t go back in time to see how different decisions in the past would have altered the present and future – Mr. Greenspan expects to get a pass when he essentially observes that removing the Fed’s easy-money punchbowl earlier in decades past, or perhaps merely serving smaller portions of credit-debt-leverage punch along with deregulation cookies, somehow would have created a worse outcome than the present mess, and he concludes his term paper with an untestable assertion:

"Could the breakdown that so devastated global financial markets have been prevented? Given inappropriately low financial intermediary capital (i.e. excessive leverage) and two decades of virtual unrelenting prosperity, low inflation, and low long-term interest rates, I very much doubt it. Those economic conditions are the necessary, and likely the sufficient, conditions for the emergence of an income-producing asset bubble. To be sure, central banks have the capacity to break the back of any prospective cash flow that supports bubbly asset prices, but almost surely at the cost of a severe contraction of economic output, with indeterminate consequences." (All emphasis added.)

Which is followed by a monstrous, ominous, “be-glad-we-only-have-a-mess-of-this-hundred-year-severity-to-clean-up” whopper:

"The downside of that tradeoff is open-ended."

Cue scary music. Of course the consequences are indeterminate, Sir Alan, and we never will know what our present and our children’s future would have been like had other, more prudent fiscal and monetary policies had been adopted by all participants, but in parsing Mr. G’s conclusion above, we find exactly where, and with whom, the fault resides:

• Excessive leverage of financial institutions? Congresses, Administrations, the Federal Reserve, FDIC, OCC and OTS, without question.


• Two decades of virtual unrelenting prosperity? Apparently is was virtual prosperity, not real prosperity, because it came at a price of excessive, unsustainable leverage among individuals, businesses and governments.


• Low Inflation? An obsession with consumption of low-cost goods imported from low-cost, overseas manufacturers, again fueled with leverage, instead of savings.


• Low long-term interest rates? Why Alan, you remember, it’s the Federal Reserve which sets interest rates, and you were its chairman for 18 years.

The fault then, it would seem, dear Alan, “lies not in our stars, but in ourselves,” and certainly not in the hundred-year flood, to badly paraphrase William Shakespeare’s Caesar.

And it would be amusing – this whole “it’s nobody’s fault, stuff happens” bit about hundred year floods coming only once every hundred years – if not for the physical, emotional and national wealth-destroying carnage of “The Crisis” of the last three years.

Not to mention the many years, if not decades, in our now less prosperous future which will be required to rebuild ourselves from the ground up after such an easily avoidable catastrophe, unlike nature’s hundred-year floods, of our own design.

OK, so it’s only the second draft of his term paper – maybe he’ll revise the final publication to attribute at least some culpability, but don’t count on it. Right now, I give it a "D+."

The Maestro and the Hundred-Year Flood