The Last Man in the Room
April 30, 2026
There is a specific kind of institutional dread that spreads when everyone can see the succession happening but nobody will say it plainly. Jerome Powell testified for the last time as Fed Chair on Wednesday. Kevin Warsh is already in the building — metaphorically, at least — having spent last week telling the Senate Banking Committee that he would not be Trump's "human sock puppet" while simultaneously declining to defend his soon-to-be colleague Lisa Cook from a presidential firing that is currently before the Supreme Court. The choreography of a handover in progress, neither clean nor acknowledged, playing out against the most consequential macroeconomic backdrop in years.
Thursday brings the data that will define what Warsh walks into: the first estimate of Q1 GDP, March PCE, and core PCE — all landing before the open. Economists are pencilling in 2.2% annualised growth, a sharp rebound from the wretched 0.5% fourth quarter. But the composition matters enormously. Q4's collapse was partly Iran-driven supply shock landing in the data in real-time; Q1's recovery is being led by non-residential fixed investment and AI infrastructure buildout, with net exports still a drag and residential investment weak. Meanwhile, core PCE is expected around 0.3% month-on-month, which translates to roughly 3.1% year-over-year — half a point above target, sticky, and not obviously on its way down while crude oil sits at $110 a barrel.
This is the inherited problem. And it is a genuinely ugly one.
What Warsh said at his confirmation hearing was more interesting than the headlines captured. He was critical of the Fed's 2021 and 2022 policy errors — the "transitory" misread that every economist and their mother now disowns — but more pointedly, he argued the central bank should be less forward-looking in its rate decisions. Less dependent on projections. More reactive to what the data is actually doing, rather than what models say it will do. He also indicated a preference for a significantly smaller balance sheet.
Sit with that for a moment. A Fed chair who wants to shrink forward guidance, reduce the balance sheet, and inherits a situation where core inflation is at 3.1%, energy prices are structurally elevated from a war with no clear end date, and the 5-year/5-year inflation forward has drifted to 2.3%. The CME FedWatch tool now prices no more than one cut for all of 2026. JPMorgan — not a traditionally doom-peddling institution — is floating the possibility of hikes in early 2027.
The bond market has been whispering about this for months. The 10-year Treasury has sat stubbornly in the 4.0–4.5% range, refusing to price in the easing cycle that equity markets spent all of late 2025 dreaming about. Somebody in the rates market understood before most that the cycle of cuts was over.
Meanwhile, Bitcoin sat at roughly $75,500 as of early Thursday futures pricing — down about 2.2% on the session, drifting lower alongside risk assets. Gold at $4,554. The gold move is the more structurally interesting one. Central banks now account for nearly a quarter of global gold bullion demand, up from 12% in 2022. China and India are buying gold and quietly reducing Treasury exposure. The geopolitical unwind from dollar-centric reserve management is happening at a pace that is slow enough to be boring and fast enough to matter enormously over a decade.
Warsh wants a smaller Fed balance sheet. Foreign central banks want fewer Treasuries. The fiscal deficit is still enormous. Someone has to absorb the supply of U.S. government debt being issued into this environment, and the marginal buyer is increasingly price-sensitive in ways that the pre-2022 era simply wasn't. The University of Michigan's consumer sentiment index hit 49.8 in April — a level comparable to the all-time low of June 2022, the last time markets were pricing in whether the Fed had fatally miscalculated. Year-ahead inflation expectations jumped to 4.7% among survey respondents. Consumers are not confused about what's happening. They're buying gasoline that costs more, eating food that costs more, and watching their mortgage rate refuse to fall below 6.23% despite months of held rates.
The Pershing Square IPO landed into this mess on Wednesday and managed to raise $5 billion — pricing at the low end of a range that had once aspired to $25 billion. Bill Ackman built a significant public profile over the last two years, cultivated a retail investor following, and then discovered that when you finally come to market, you get priced for what you are rather than what the narrative said you were. The vehicle — two listed entities, PSUS and PS — is a closed-end fund and an asset manager in a market that has rarely been a generous pricer of either. The scaled-back haul isn't a disaster, but it's a data point about appetite for complex financial structures when the macro backdrop is this uncertain.
Apple reports after the close. The consensus expects services to hold the line, China iPhone demand to show resilience, and Tim Cook to say nothing actionable about AI while implying everything about AI. Apple's trailing twelve-month free cash flow is essentially a force of nature — around $110 billion — which makes it the closest thing to a weather-proof equity that exists. But even AAPL is down 11% year-to-date, caught in the general gravitational field of rate uncertainty and the dawning recognition that the Magnificent Seven are not a monolith but a collection of very different risk profiles that got priced as one.
The frame that ties this Thursday together is simpler than it looks.
Powell spent eight years building an institution that communicated extensively, signalled constantly, and pre-explained every move so thoroughly that the actual move was nearly irrelevant. Markets learned to trade the speech, not the decision. Warsh has explicitly said he wants to dismantle that apparatus — less forward guidance, more data dependency, fewer dot plots used as commitment devices.
That is a regime change in the literal sense. Not in tone, not in personality. In the operating architecture of how the world's most important price-setter communicates with the world. The 10-year yield doesn't know how to price a Fed that refuses to tell it what to expect six months out. Equity valuations built on discounted future earnings need a discount rate, and the discount rate becomes substantially harder to anchor when the institution setting the short end of the curve is philosophically committed to keeping you guessing.
The data drops this morning. Then Apple tonight. Then the long weekend of trying to figure out what Warsh actually believes, what he will do in June, and whether the Senate gets around to confirming him before Powell's term formally expires on May 15.
History doesn't offer many clean analogies for a central bank in mid-succession, managing a supply-shock inflation, fighting a war's energy consequences, and presiding over the most aggressive AI capital deployment in corporate history. There are pieces of 1979, pieces of 2001, pieces of 2022 scattered around. None of them fit perfectly.
That's the part that should make you uncomfortable.