The Best Of All Holidays

In the pantheon of major American holidays none stands higher than Thanksgiving.  There is no pressure of frenzied gift giving, no special services unique to one religion or another, and no marching bands loudly proclaiming one’s nationality. It is simply a time for families to take time out and realize some things are more important than work, politics, shopping, or any of the other myriad events that seem occupy so much of our time.

            The food recipe is fairly simple. It’s been around since 1621 when local native Americans – perhaps unwisely in light of later events – shared a meal with the newly arrived settlers just south of what is now Boston. Turkey, sweet potato, corn bread and pumpkin pie are now the basics, and modern-day cooks can add green vegetables or other types of pie. Certain things, however, are off limits. My wife is Greek and one year thought perhaps a few spanakopita – spinach pies --- would be just the thing. Absolutely not, I insisted. Tradition is tradition and must be honoured. History does not record any evidence of flaky pastry in Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1621.  However, it must be said that that one slight slip was quickly remedied and we now have a Thanksgiving table second to none.

No sign of spanakopita

            The holiday was first celebrated in 1789, and it was an on-again-off-again thing until 1863 when Abraham Lincoln declared it a federal holiday. Seems strange to create a national holiday of thanksgiving in the middle of a vicious civil war, but then maybe Lincoln needed something to take people’s minds off the carnage on the battlefields.

           Now it is celebrated pretty much the same way throughout the country from southern California to the coast of Maine, and many family members overcome major obstacles to get home for this one holiday. Travel writers often say that the Thanksgiving period is the single busiest travel time of the year.

            For me, I always associate Thanksgiving with the small town in Vermont where I grew up. Autumn was over and hard winter had not yet arrived. The trees had lost their wonderful mosaic of red, yellow, and tan foliage. Their limbs were now bare, and the dark greens of the spruce, hemlock and pine trees dominated the woodlands. Fields were beginning to freeze hard, and rings of ice were forming on ponds and streams.  The birds had long since flown south and small creatures of the fields and woods by now were nestled deep in their warm burrows. Outsiders – those people from Boston or New York – would say the air was cold, really cold. True New Englanders would only concede that the temperature was indeed bracing – maybe time to put on the long underwear.

            With the wisdom of 12-year-olds we would comment on peoples’ winter preparations while walking home from school. Who had enough good quality, dry wood precisely stacked and protected, who had sacks of sand ready for the icy roads, who had cleaned all the leaves from gutters to prevent ice from forming under the roof shingles? Meanwhile we would busy ourselves with the important things like checking that our skis were well prepared and edges sharpened, ice skates well polished, and hockey sticks recovered from under work benches. 

            Sharp edges on the skies were critical. Skiing in New England was different than in the West with all its luscious champagne powder snow. We in the rugged northeast weren’t used to such luxuries. No, our snow was rock hard and quickly turned to ice. If your edges weren’t sharp enough to carve around the icy conditions your race turned into catastrophe as you slid ignominiously sideways down the hill instead of going neatly through the gates. Very embarrassing when you’re 12 years old.

            My mother was usually exhausted by the time Thanksgiving morning rolled around. There were very few supermarkets in Vermont in the 1950s, and none at all around us. She had to drive to several different towns to get what she called the ‘right’ Thanksgiving ingredients. But cook she did. And by early afternoon we were ready to gather around the table. While we were a fairly small family, the number always seems to swell with stray friends or a distant relative. One year we were joined by recent arrivals from war-torn Europe and listened in awe as they gave a special thanks and recounted their experiences just trying to stay alive during the war and in its immediate aftermath. That was my first, personal introduction to the world beyond our little slice of rolling, green, peaceful hills.

            After the meal and the washing up, there was the obligatory touch football game. Football is a game normally played with 11 people on a side. However, on Thanksgiving the teams could number as many as 20 ranging in age from four to 74 as different families gathered to work off some of the excess food. This game had strict rules, such as how many times one’s sister was allowed to touch the ball. Score keeping was haphazard at best, and the game ended only when both sides were exhausted, frozen, or both. Then we would retire inside to a nice warm fire and watch a real football game on television before falling asleep fairly quickly.

The obligatory Thanksgiving touch football game

            Times, circumstances, and locations change. But it is gratifying to see that this most basic of holidays featuring family, friends and food is only getting stronger

Is The Turkish Economy Strong Enough For A Marathon?

Over the past few years Turkey, like its neighbour Greece, has suffered a serious brain drain as thousands of talented young people—the kind of people Turkey can ill afford to lose -- left for a variety of political, social or economic reasons. Journalist Kadri Gursel, who had served a jail term for his sharp criticism of economic and political developments, revealed the extent of this problem in a recent column in Al-Monitor. One of those who left is a brilliant young financial analyst now working in Europe, and he offered these insights into the economic problems facing his homeland. For understandable reasons he prefers to remain anonymous.

          When I first started my career in finance 20 years ago,  my boss at the time gave me a book called “Warren Buffett’s Way”.  As a young Turk, who never heard of the great master before, I was impressed by the clarity of Buffett’s thinking and his simple explanations of quite complicated subjects.  One of the most striking examples was on how to approach macroeconomic analysis where he likened the U.S. economy to “a great athlete who runs sometimes fast and sometimes slow and we should not be worried about how fast he runs in the short run as eventually he will get to his destination”.  Later during the 2008 crisis, the great sage used the same analogy. This time he said that great athlete who should have been checking his blood pressure now had suffered a heart attack. What’s worse, he continued, is that the paramedics who arrived, instead of applying the resuscitator, started arguing about who was at fault. It doesn't help spending time worrying about who is to blame when the patient is having trouble breathing.

The economy is more than a 100 metre dash

            Borrowing Buffett’s analogy, we can liken Turkish economy to a typical Turkish athlete who likes to run a fast sprint just to get ahead. But then either he loses energy and leaves the race or relies on some supportive “substance” to finish the race, with the hope (and often confidence) that he is so smart that no one will find out about it.  Either way, the race ends in humiliation.  Beginning in 2002, the Turkish economy had run a great race with the help of a foreign trainer - the IMF --  who prepared a long term strategy and careful nutrition plan. The economy also had a technical adviser – the EU -- who promised Turkey the opportunity to compete with elite athletes, as long as it promised to learn and obey the rules of the game.  In addition, low global interest rates provided the perfect weather conditions for Turkey to shine by using foreign borrowing to import all the equipment and proper nutrition. Turkey, of course, promised to pay back all these loans after it had won the race.

Since 2013 a lot changed for our athlete. First, he fired his foreign trainer, stating that his own methods developed by the great leader Tayyip Erdoğan, are much better than the alien but scientific methods used by his old trainer.  Then, instead of trying to compete with elite athletes, he decided to join a new league in the Middle East – a league not known for having, let alone following, a lot of rules and where the concept of ‘fair play’ is considered just another Western intrusion into the region’s culture. However, lately our athlete realised that the competitors in the new Middle East are quite tough, and most of them (with the exception of one small runner – Qatar) have long memories and are not fond of the renewed Turkish activity.  Afraid of losing the race (and face) the trainer decided to push the athlete even faster.

This short-term tactic obviously needed more imported nutrients, equipment and even drugs (on credit), which resulted in Turkish economy growing over 7% in 2017, much faster than any of its competitors.  Given that the trainer’s strategy resulted in huge debts, around US$440 billion, it is understandable that foreign suppliers decided to ask for higher rates. They also stopped accepting IOUs in the name of Turkish Lira and more importantly showed some reluctance to extend or roll over maturing debt.   This obviously resulted in a sharp slowdown in the speed of our athlete or a complete halt to catch a breath in hopes of getting more foreign-supplied nutrients enabling him to continue with his fast run.  However, while he is catching a breath the trainer has started blaming everyone else, attacking other athletes, technical advisors and even some of the spectators who had nothing to do with the competition.  Moreover, once he started to feel the effects of his “cold Turkey”, he realised that he needs the drugs supplied by the others to continue with his performance. The trainer then began to approach some of these foreign suppliers for more supplies on credit.

What now?

However, this time it is different.  Given that our runner has completely run out of options he needs to readjust his speed or face the possibility of a major heart attack and leave the competition in disgrace.  Even in the best case where the foreign suppliers might agree to provide limited supplies enabling our athlete to continue running, the trainer needs to agree on a much slower pace. More importantly the trainer is told to stop his rhetoric against the suppliers and agree to make necessary changes to his current unhealthy diet of “using borrowed funds for construction of mega projects”.   The biggest problem in this case is that our tired athlete’s current manager, like any manager who believes he is smarter than everyone else, does not really understand the severity of the situation and is unwilling to change his game plan. 

He would rather to take the risk a risk of forcing his athlete to run even faster and force an even bigger catastrophe.  His management team has lost key members who have been replaced with family members and others whose priority is pleasing the manager rather than understanding the real rules of the game.  There is some small hope that a few of the family members understand the current situation. But there are doubts whether they can tell the manager to make key changes such as replacing the team doctor (Central Bank Governor) who has consistently been wrong in his diagnosis of what ails the athlete.

            To sum it up,  our Turkish athlete, once again is suffering from the effects of running much faster than his capacity and is completely exhausted. Our athlete now faces the choice of slowing to the pace of an overweight recreational jogger or forcing himself to run fast until his last breath – at which point he could probably only be saved by a foreign paramedic in the name of the IMF.   The decision is at hands of the manager and his team.