Alan Greenspan, the man who spent nearly two decades orchestrating the American economy from the Federal Reserve's marble halls, is dead at 100. The architect of an era of cheap money and deregulation leaves behind a legacy that UK Treasury economists are now picking apart in private memos and off-record briefings.
Greenspan's death was confirmed by a family spokesperson this morning. No cause yet, but sources close to the Fed say it was peaceful. That's more than can be said for the markets he presided over.
For those who came of age during the Greenspan years, it's hard to separate the man from the myth. He was the maestro who could hum the economy into a crescendo of growth. Low interest rates. Minimal regulation. The belief that markets knew best. It was a heady tune that played through the 1990s, until the dot-com bust proved even maestros can hit sour notes.
But the real reckoning came after his 2006 departure. The housing bubble he helped inflate burst into the 2008 financial crisis. Critics say Greenspan's faith in self-correcting markets was a dangerous delusion. Defenders point to the decades of prosperity he oversaw. Both are true.
London's Treasury is unusually quiet. Off the record, one senior economist told me: 'Greenspan shaped global finance more than any other single figure of the late 20th century. His policy legacy is mixed, but his influence was total.'
Another source, who requested anonymity because they were not authorised to speak, put it more bluntly: 'We've been unwinding his mistakes for 15 years. Low rates, weak regulation, asset inflation. It's a hangover that kept giving.'
Greenspan's rise was pure American Dream. Born in New York City in 1926, the son of a stockbroker and a furniture saleswoman. Trained as an economist, he cut his teeth in the business world, running a consulting firm that advised corporate clients. He was a devotee of Ayn Rand's objectivism, a philosophy that championed rational self-interest and unfettered capitalism. That worldview never left him.
Appointed Fed chair in 1987 by President Ronald Reagan, Greenspan didn't waste time. He steered the economy through Black Monday that same year, the savings and loan crisis, the early 1990s recession, and the dot-com bubble's rise and fall. Markets trusted him. They called him 'the Maestro' for a reason.
But trust can be a dangerous currency. The low interest rates and lax oversight that defined his tenure contributed to the housing bubble. When it burst, the global economy shuddered. The United Kingdom felt the tremors. Banks collapsed. Austerity followed. And still, the debate rages: was Greenspan a genius or a lucky man whose flaws were only exposed when it was too late?
I've spent years following the money, and I've learned one thing: the men in suits always leave a trail. Greenspan's is written in bond yields, housing prices, and bailout cheques. His legacy is a double-edged sword: growth on one side, crisis on the other.
It's fitting that his death comes as central bankers once again face unprecedented challenges. Inflation, supply chains, digital currencies. The new maestros are learning that conducting the economy is a high-wire act.
In London, the Treasury will hold a quiet reflection. No public statements yet. But the economists will be sharpening their pencils, drawing lines from Greenspan's policies to present-day predicaments. The old man's ghost will hover over every interest rate decision, every deregulation debate.
Alan Greenspan is dead. Long live the questions he left behind.
