Alan Greenspan, Federal Reserve Chair Who Shaped a Generation of Markets, Dies at 100

Alan Greenspan, the longstanding Federal Reserve chair who was lionised during his time in office as one of the defining figures of modern monetary policy, has died at the age of 100. His death closes the chapter on a career that drew near-universal praise from markets and policymakers alike — before a financial crisis recast the terms of his legacy in ways that proved harder to shake.

From Celebrated to Scrutinised

For much of his tenure atop the Federal Reserve, Greenspan occupied a singular position in American economic life: a central banker treated by markets as something close to an oracle. His pronouncements moved asset prices; his tenure coincided with long stretches of growth; and Washington's political establishment, across administrations and party lines, regarded him as indispensable.

That standing made the subsequent reassessment all the more striking. When the financial crisis arrived, critics turned to Greenspan's record at the Fed as a central exhibit in the case against light-touch financial regulation and the assumptions underpinning it. The man who had been lionised in office became a focal point for a broader argument about what central banks had got wrong, and why.

A Legacy Defined by Two Eras

The arc of Greenspan's reputation is itself a case study in how financial crises rewrite history. In office, the Federal Reserve under his leadership was widely credited with navigating the economy through turbulent periods. Out of office, and especially after the crisis, that record was examined through a harder lens — with questions centering on whether the policies and regulatory posture of the Greenspan Fed had contributed to the conditions that made a crisis possible.

Few figures in modern financial history have experienced so sharp a reversal in official standing. Greenspan spent decades at the centre of markets, monetary policy and political power, emerging as a figure whose name was synonymous with the Fed itself. That the crisis forced a reckoning with that legacy is now as much a part of his story as the laurels that preceded it. He was 100.