Keynes’s merciless lampooning of Woodrow Wilson at the Peace Conference. He echoed this again in his reaction to the
Tract
. “Keynes’ little book 247 arrived safely and I am just now reading it,” he wrote to Norman on January 4, 1924, from the Arizona desert. “I have a great respect for his ability and the freshness and versatility of his mind, but I am much afraid of some of his more erratic ideas, which impressed me as being the product of a vivid imagination without very much practical experience.”
The hidden irony was that every one of Keynes’s main recommendations—that the link between gold balances and the creation of credit be severed, that the automatic mechanism of the gold standard be replaced with a system of managed money, that credit policy be geared toward domestic price stability—corresponded precisely to the policies Strong had instituted in the United States.
During the war, the flow of gold into the United States had pushed up prices by 60 percent. When the fighting ended, but turmoil in Europe continued and the gold still kept arriving, Strong decided that it was time to abandon the conventional rules of the gold standard and insulate the U.S. economy from the flood of bullion. The system was being swamped by so much excess gold that to have followed the traditional dictates of the gold standard would have led to a massive expansion of domestic credit, which inevitably would have led to very high rates of inflation—Strong calculated that it would cause prices to double. It made no sense to him for the United States to import, in effect, the inflationary policies of Europe and destabilize its own monetary system just because the Old World had been hit by political and financial disaster. The Fed therefore began to short-circuit the effects of additional gold on the money supply by contracting the amount of credit that it supplied to banks, thus offsetting any liquidity from gold inflows.
Having jettisoned 248 the simple operating procedures of the gold standard, which linked credit creation solely to gold reserves, Strong began to improvise an alternative set of principles to guide monetary policy. The Fed’s primary goal should be, he believed, to try to stabilize domesticprices. But he thought that it should also respond to fluctuations in business activity—in other words, the Fed should try to fine-tune the economy by opening the spigot of credit when commercial conditions were weakening and closing it as the economy strengthened.
This new set of principles, somewhat cobbled together on the fly, represented a quiet, indeed carefully unheralded, revolution in monetary policy. Until then central bankers had seen their primary task as protecting the currency and confined their responsibilities to ensuring that the gold standard was given free rein, only stepping in at times of crisis or panic. The credit policy of every industrial country had been driven by one factor alone: gold reserves. The United States was, however, now so flush with gold that the solidity of its currency was assured. Led by Strong, the Fed had undertaken a totally new responsibility—that of promoting internal economic stability.
It was Strong more than anyone else who invented the modern central banker. When we watch Ben Bernanke or, before him, Alan Greenspan or Jean-Claude Trichet or Mervyn King describe how they are seeking to strike the right balance between economic growth and price stability, it is the ghost of Benjamin Strong who hovers above him. It all sounds quite prosaically obvious now, but in 1922 it was a radical departure from more than two hundred years of central banking history.
Strong’s policy of offsetting the impact of gold inflows on domestic credit conditions meant that as bullion came into the United States, it was, in effect, withdrawn from circulation. It was as if all this treasure that had been so painfully mined from the depths of the earth was being reburied.
Strong’s