There is a photograph from May 22nd, the day Kevin Warsh was sworn in as the 17th chair of the Federal Reserve, his hand raised before Justice Clarence Thomas at the White House. What the photograph cannot show is what he was being handed. Not a gavel. Not a mandate. An invoice.
The invoice reads as follows: headline CPI at 4.2% — highest since April 2023, running hotter for three consecutive months, driven by energy costs up 23.5% year-on-year with gasoline alone surging 40.5%. Core still elevated at 2.9% annually. Unemployment drifting to 4.3% against a backdrop of slowing hiring. GDP growth being quietly revised downward. And sitting at the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, a president who has publicly and repeatedly demanded lower interest rates, whose administration created the conditions for the very inflation that makes lower rates untenable.
Warsh chairs his first FOMC meeting in four days.
History is instructive here, although rarely flattering. When Arthur Burns took over from William McChesney Martin at the Fed in February 1970, he inherited an economy where inflation was already becoming uncomfortable — the legacy of Vietnam spending, Great Society deficits, and a decade of accommodation. Burns was a capable economist. He was also susceptible to pressure. What followed was the ugliest monetary policy decade in post-war American history: stop-go rate decisions, political interference from Nixon, and eventually Paul Volcker's brutal correction — rates at 20%, a double-dip recession, and an unemployment rate that hit 10.8%. The bill for the 1970s was paid in the early 1980s.
This is not 1970. The comparison is imperfect and it would be lazy to push it too far. But the structural rhyme is real: a new Fed chair arriving mid-crisis with inflation already above target, beholden in some degree to a White House that installed him, presiding over a committee whose April meeting produced an 8-4 dissent — the most fractured vote since 1992.
Four members voted against the hold or the policy statement. Powell, now staying on as a rank-and-file governor until 2028, will be seated in the room when Warsh presides for the first time. There is no graceful template for that arrangement. The former chair is not the enemy. He is also not nobody. His presence is, at minimum, a standing referendum on the previous consensus — a reminder to every dissenting hawk on the committee that someone who spent eight years in the chair agrees there is no easy path.
The May CPI number, released June 10th, gave Warsh no gifts. Month-on-month, the all-items index rose 0.5% — a touch below April's 0.6%, which was itself the largest monthly jump since mid-2022. Energy accounted for over 60% of the monthly increase. The silver lining, such as it is: core commodities posted a small monthly decline, suggesting tariff pass-through into goods prices remains muted. Core CPI at 0.2% month-on-month came in below consensus. Morgan Stanley called the read "not as bad as some people feared."
That sentence belongs in a museum. Not as bad as feared is the new good.
The oil picture has changed dramatically in 72 hours. Brent, which was above $114 in early April when the Strait of Hormuz effectively closed, settled Friday at $87.25 — down 25% from peak on the prospect of a US-Iran diplomatic deal that has not yet been signed. If the deal holds and crude stays in this range, Warsh's path becomes measurably less treacherous: the May energy spike begins to reverse, headline CPI moderates without any action from the Fed, and he can hold rates at 3.50–3.75% with a credible data-dependent narrative.
But the deal has not been signed. It was "in pretty final shape" on Friday, per a Trump statement. Iran's position on Hormuz has shifted roughly four times since March. This is a geopolitical variable being priced as a settled outcome, and Warsh knows — or should know — that the next CPI print, due July 14th, will be shaped by what happens in the Strait over the next 30 days.
The peculiarity of Warsh's position is that his historical instincts and his current inheritance pull in opposite directions.
He is, by reputation and record, a hawk. He dissented from rate cuts during the 2010 recovery, arguing the Fed was printing money into an environment where inflationary expectations might become unanchored. He was, arguably, wrong about the near-term path but correct about the longer-term risk of conditioning markets to perpetual accommodation. He has also publicly signaled that he wants to kill forward guidance — the dot plot, the "we expect to hold through..." language that has, since Bernanke codified it, created its own set of market dependencies and distortions.
Killing the dot plot on day one would be seismic. Not because the dot plot is sacred — it isn't, and reasonable people have argued for years that it does more to bind the Fed to stale projections than it does to enhance transparency — but because markets have spent fifteen years trading around it. The June meeting includes a new Summary of Economic Projections. If Warsh signals that future SEPs will be deprioritized or eventually discontinued, expect the rates market to spend months repricing the loss of that anchor.
Against all of this sits the political reality. Trump wants cuts. He hasn't asked Warsh to predetermine rate decisions — Warsh said so under oath before the Senate Banking Committee — but the request doesn't need to be explicit when the president's economic preferences are loud, persistent, and backed by the implicit logic of his Treasury Secretary's agenda. Warsh took the job. He knew what it came with.
The question on Tuesday is not whether he hikes. He won't, and neither he nor the market needs a lesson in why a 25-basis-point move into a geopolitical oil shock and a divided committee would be a categorical mistake. The question is what he signals. Whether the statement hardens the language around inflation risk. Whether the dots — if they survive their last scheduled appearance — shift upward. Whether Warsh uses the press conference to begin reestablishing institutional credibility or to perform consensus-building that the composition of the committee doesn't actually support.
Paul Volcker took over the Fed in August 1979, when CPI was running above 11%. His first action was to change the operational framework, targeting money supply instead of interest rates — a technical shift that communicated something structural: that the old way of doing things was over. Markets initially hated it. The cure was brutal. But the inflation came down.
Warsh is not inheriting 11% inflation. He is inheriting 4.2% with an FOMC split, a predecessor in the room, a president watching, and oil markets that may or may not give him the moderating tailwind he needs.
History doesn't repeat. But it does present recurring examinations. The same questions about central bank independence, about who the Fed ultimately answers to, about whether inflation expectations can be re-anchored without a recession — these are not new questions. They are the same questions that every generation of Fed leadership has eventually had to face, and that every generation has answered somewhat differently, with consequences that sometimes took years to become visible.
Warsh's examination begins Tuesday at 2:00 p.m. Eastern.
The room will be watching. So will the bond market. So will the 30-year at 4.97%, which has been sending its own message to Pennsylvania Avenue for months, in the quiet language of yield.
