There is a profound, almost erotic joy to be found in watching the unstoppable force of political narcissism collide with the immovable object of bureaucratic indifference. We are witnessing this tedious spectacle play out in real-time as the administration—a collection of frantic poll-watchers who likely believe 'macroeconomics' is a type of pasta—attempts to bully Jerome Powell, and fails spectacularly. The headline suggests Powell 'punched back.' Let’s be clear: Jerome Powell does not punch. He does not brawl. He adjusts his spectacles, drones on about basis points in a voice that could tranquilize a rhinoceros, and simply refuses to die. And in the pathetic arena of Washington D.C., that passes for a knockout blow.

The administration’s recent offensive against America’s central bank was doomed from the start, mostly because it relied on the premise that the Federal Reserve cares what voters think. It does not. The Fed is the high priesthood of the dollar, a non-elected cabal of suits who view the American electorate not as people, but as 'labor market tightness' to be 'cooled.' When the administration lashes out at the Fed, they are effectively barking at a calculator. The calculator does not feel shame. It just keeps spitting out numbers that make your reelection chances look like a statistical error.

Let’s dissect the stupidity of the attack itself. The political class, desperate to pin the blame for a chaotic economy on anyone but themselves, decided that publicly undermining the independence of the central bank was a winning strategy. It’s a move straight out of the handbook of a banana republic dictator, minus the cool sunglasses and the epaulets. They wanted Powell to bend the knee, to tweak the dials of the economy to suit the political calendar rather than the economic reality. It’s the equivalent of demanding a thermometer show a lower temperature because you don’t like having a fever. But Powell, in a display of institutional arrogance that almost makes you admire the gray-haired technocrat, simply said 'no.' Or, more accurately, he said nothing of substance at all, continued his policy trajectory, and let the administration’s threats evaporate into the ether of irrelevance.

This 'punch back' wasn't a flurry of insults on social media. It was a reassertion of the one thing politicians hate most: reality. By standing firm, Powell didn't just defend the Fed; he exposed the administration as toothless. He reminded the world that while the President can launch nukes, he cannot lower your mortgage rate by yelling at a podium. There is a delicious irony in seeing the supposed 'most powerful office in the world' thwarted by a lawyer with a monochrome tie collection and a mandate to control inflation. The administration thought they were engaging in a power struggle; Powell thought he was attending a committee meeting. The committee meeting won.

Of course, we shouldn't mistake this for heroism. I realize the bar is so low in American governance that 'doing your job without wetting your pants' is considered heroic, but let’s not deify the Fed. These are the same arsonists who flooded the world with cheap money for a decade, creating the very inflationary bonfire they are now trying to extinguish by suffocating the working class. Powell is not a savior; he is simply the designated driver at a party where everyone else has snorted lines of fiscal irresponsibility off the bathroom sink. He’s the buzzkill. He’s the guy turning on the lights and telling everyone the music is over. Naturally, the drunken frat boys in the administration hate him for it.

But the failure of this attack reveals something deeper about the current state of American power. It reveals that the political apparatus has become so performative, so addicted to the optics of 'fighting,' that it has forgotten how to actually govern. They attacked Powell not to change policy, but to look like they were doing something. It was theater for an audience of idiots. The problem is, the financial markets—unlike the voting public—do not clap for bad acting. They panicked. They looked at the administration trying to politicize the currency and collectively vomited. The backlash wasn't just from Powell; it was from the very capital that keeps this rotting ship afloat.

So, Powell 'wins' this round, if you can call it winning. He gets to keep his hand on the lever that crushes the poor to save the dollar. The administration retreats to its corner, bruised and looking even more incompetent than usual, likely already drafting new talking points to blame the next quarterly downturn on sunspots or the alignment of Jupiter. And the rest of us? We remain trapped in the passenger seat of a vehicle where the driver and the navigator are fighting over the map while the engine is on fire. Powell didn't save us. He just reminded the politicians that they aren't the only ones holding a detonator.