The July 4th congressional recess’s pause in 2014’s record pace of judicial confirmations is a good time to explore the reason for the upsurge.

The 54 confirmations at 2014’s half-way point compare to 43 in all of 2013. What’s behind the increase? Some have said that the Senate’s November 2013 rules change—to allow a simple majority to end filibusters on most nominees—“has resulted in [the] sharp increase.” There is a lot of appeal (and even a little truth) to the claim, but beware the “post hoc ergo propter hoc” fallacy that if “B” follows “A”, “A” necessarily caused “B”.

There have been 61 confirmations since November 21. The rules change clearly enabled three of them. Late October and mid-November filibusters of three D.C. circuit appellate nominees were the immediate cause of the change, which in turn allowed their post-November confirmations.

Saying how many of the other post-November confirmations would have failed without the rules change is an exercise in informed speculation. Here’s one way to look at it: how many of those confirmations had enough negative votes to have sustained a filibuster under the old rule?

Invoking cloture—i.e., cutting off debate—under the old rule required 60 votes. Filibuster proponents were often able to prevent that by peeling off, if not 41 Nay votes, at least votes in the 30s, assuming not all 100 senators were present to vote. For this analysis, let’s set the bar at 34—the fewest number of votes that prevented a 60 vote cloture-invocation against any Obama nominee (most filibuster-sustaining votes were in the high 30’s and low 40’s).

Forty five of the 51 post-November district confirmations quite probably would have happened without the rules change. They had fewer than 34 Nays. And it’s hardly automatic that the six with at least 34 Nays would have been filibustered under the old rule. Senators can and do oppose a nominee but oppose filibustering her as well. Prior to the rules change, 12 district judges were confirmed even though they had at least 34 Nays. Only one of those needed a cloture vote to move to confirmation—33 voted against cloture and 44 voted against confirmation. (Cloture votes, a rarity before the rules change, have been routine since then, and they generally get around 30-40 negative notes. But these appear to be protest votes against the rules change, inasmuch as 27 of the 51 district confirmation had no Nays and another 14 had 20 or fewer Nays.)

So it’s reasonable speculation, but still speculation, that the rules change had no direct effect on district confirmations.

Circuit confirmations are a different story. The three D.C. nominees clearly owe their confirmations to the rules change. Three of the seven other circuit confirmations since November had well over 34 Nays (40, 43, and 45, in fact). One nominee had represented challengers to California’s since-overturned same-sex marriage ban; another, also a Californian, was nominated to a long-vacant seat that Republican senators claimed belonged in Idaho. The third, with 45 Nays, had authored Justice Department memos providing legal justifications for drone strikes against U.S. citizens. Successful filibusters against all three, under the old rule, seem quite plausible. (The other four post-rules-change nominees were confirmed with either no, or in one case, three negative votes.)

Bottom line: The rules change likely enabled at most twelve of the 61 post-rules change confirmations, and it more likely enabled only six.

The frenetic pace of 2014 confirmations is due mainly to Senate Democrats’ desire to secure as many as they can before the November elections and the possibility of losing control of the confirmation process.

In the last two months China has executed a decisive change in its policy for managing its currency, the renminbi. Ending an eight-year period of slow but relentless appreciation against the U.S. dollar, the People’s Bank of China (PBOC) engineered a swift devaluation of about 3 percent, and doubled the size of the currency’s daily trading band. These moves took financial markets by surprise and sowed confusion. Was Beijing simply trying to re-ignite export growth by making its currency cheaper? Or was it making a more fundamental shift?

The answer is straightforward. China has taken a huge step towards making its exchange rate more flexible and market determined. In doing so, the authorities have clearly signaled their intention to switch from a monetary policy that mainly targets the exchange rate, to one that mainly targets domestic interest rates. The change in renminbi policy is thus part of a broad and ambitious financial reform strategy, reflecting the agenda laid out last November in the “Decision” published following the Third Plenum of the 18th Party Congress. It is all about improving China’s macroeconomic management, and has little or nothing to do with boosting exports.

Four Phases of China’s Exchange Rate Management

To understand the significance of the new renminbi policy, some background is helpful. The history of China’s exchange rate management can be divided into four phases. In the first, from 1979 to 1994, there was a steady depreciation in order to wean the country off the artificially overvalued exchange rate inherited from the previous period of Communist autarky. During this period Beijing maintained a dual exchange rate system. This consisted of an official rate, still overvalued, but gradually converging toward reality, which essentially applied to the capital account; and a more market based “swap rate” which was available to exporters. The purpose of this arrangement was to enable a competitive (though rudimentary) export economy to develop while still keeping the local price of imported capital goods relatively low, and avoiding the collapse in living standards that a full-on depreciation would have caused.

The second phase was a brief transition period in 1994-1995 when the two exchange rates were combined and the currency was allowed to float more or less freely in order for fair value to be established. In late 1995 the value of the renminbi was fixed at a rate of 8.3 against the U.S. dollar, initiating the third phase—a hard peg against the U.S. dollar—which lasted until July 2005.

It’s important to recall that the first test of this regime was the refusal to devalue in 1998 in the wake of the Asian financial crisis, when the currencies of the countries with whom China was then competing for export orders all fell dramatically. Rather than devaluing to help out exporters, Beijing hardened its peg. This was costly: China’s exports flatlined in 1998, and arguably the relatively strong currency played a role in the deflation that China suffered for the next four years. One reason the government hardened the peg, rather than devaluing, was to establish that China was a dependable player in the world system and that its currency could be relied on as a store of value. The short-term hit to exports was more than offset by the strategic gain in China’s reputation as “responsible stakeholder” and a safe place for foreign direct investment.

The hard peg against a declining U.S. dollar led eventually to a depreciation of the trade-weighted, inflation-adjusted exchange rate (known as the real effective exchange rate, or REER) that contributed to the exploding exports and ballooning trade surpluses of the early 2000s. This in turn prompted the fourth phase of Chinese currency policy: a crawling peg against the U.S. dollar, starting in July 2005. Each day, the PBOC fixed a reference rate for the renminbi against the dollar, and permitted the currency’s value to fluctuate within a narrow band around the reference. The daily trading band was initially set at 0.3 percent (in either direction), and subsequently widened to 0.5 percent in 2007 and 1 percent in April 2012. Over eight years, the crawling-peg system delivered a 35 percent appreciation against the U.S. dollar and a 40 percent appreciation of the REER.

In light of the vociferous criticism China endured for its undervalued exchange rate, it is striking in retrospect how swift Beijing was to change its currency regime once a serious external imbalance appeared. As late as 2004, China’s merchandise trade balance was around 2.5 percent of GDP, just slightly above the 15-year average. In 2005 it jumped to 5.5 percent, and the decision to let the currency rise was immediate. At first the rise was too timid, and the trade and current account balances continued to expand. But by mid-2007 the appreciation pace picked up to 5 percent a year. The ultimate result of the crawling-peg regime was a reduction in the current account surplus from its peak of 10 percent of GDP in 2007 to the measly 0.8 percent recorded in the first quarter of 2014.

As the above account makes clear, mercantilist motives historically played a secondary role in China’s exchange rate policies—and after 2007 China pursued an anti-mercantilist policy of deliberately shrinking its trade surplus. Beijing’s bigger concerns were the exchange rate’s role in facilitating a broad shift from administered to market prices (1978-1995), as an anchor for monetary policy (1995-2013) and as instrument for correcting an external imbalance and promoting a shift in favor of domestic demand (2007-2013). Lying in the background was the idea that a relatively stable exchange rate was strategically beneficial. After the Asian crisis, foreign investors were reassured that China was a safe place for direct investment; and after the 2008 global crisis the case for the renminbi as an international trade-settlement and portfolio investment currency was strengthened.

Given this history, we can safely rule out the theory that this year’s devaluation is a tactic to boost exports at a time of flagging domestic demand. An explanation that better fits both the recent facts and the historical context is that, in line with the Third Plenum Decision, Beijing wanted to make the exchange rate more flexible and market-determined. But it faced a problem: for almost 18 months from September 2012, the daily market rate of the renminbi was at or near the top of the 1 percent trading band, because investors assumed (rightly) that the Chinese currency would always go up: it was a “one-way bet.” The one-way bet caused large-scale capital inflows that were routinely much larger than the monthly trade surplus. Under these conditions, if the central bank had simply widened the daily trading band, traders would quickly have pushed the value of the currency to the top of the new band, and even more capital would have flowed in. To prevent this outcome, the PBOC in late February starting pushing down its daily fixing, and ordered Chinese state-owned banks to sell renminbi and buy dollars. In mid-March, when the “one-way bet” psychology had been chased out of the market, PBOC doubled the daily trading band to 2 percent.

Welcome to the Managed Float

It is clear that China has entered a new phase of currency management, and the rulebook that has worked well since 2005 must be heavily revised. Two observations inform this judgment. First, the main aims of the strong renminbi policy have been achieved. The current account surplus has been virtually eliminated, and at least one serious technical study of the currency (by Martin Kessler and Arvind Subramaniam of the Peterson Institute for International Economics), the structural undervaluation of the renminbi has been eliminated.

Second, the adoption of a 2 percent daily trading band means that, on a day-to-day basis, the renminbi rate can now be determined mainly by the market most of the time (since only at times of extreme stress do currencies move more than 2 percent in a day). This newfound capacity seems consistent with the broad aim articulated in the Communist Party’s reform agenda last November, of having market forces play a “decisive role” in resource allocation. A willingness to let the currency float more freely is also consistent with the apparent agenda to liberalize deposit interest rates within in the next two years, which implies shifting from a monetary policy that mainly targets the exchange rate to one that mainly targets a domestic money-market interest rate.

It is also clear, however, that the renminbi will not simply be left to its own devices: the float will be a heavily managed one. Mechanically, it will likely operate much like the Singapore dollar “basket, band and crawl,” or BBC system, with an undisclosed trade-weighted index target, a 2 percent daily trading band puts a limit on extreme movements and a periodic readjustment of the slope of the policy band to prevent a major misalignment of the currency emerging (as it did at the end of China’s hard-peg era).

Strategically, the two most important aims of Beijing’s exchange rate regime will be maintaining stability of both the current and capital accounts, and providing support for the emergence of the renminbi as a serious international currency. (For an analysis of the renminbi-internationalization drive, see China’s Global Currency: Lever For Financial Reform.)

The first factor basically means that when capital flows (in or out) threaten to become destabilizing, the PBOC will use the exchange rate to reverse those flows; the same applies to extreme movements in the current account. In effect, Beijing will try to keep both parts of the balance of payments in roughly neutral position, while it undertakes deep reforms of the domestic economy.

The second aim means that sustained depreciation is unlikely to be tolerated, since as the new kid on the block the renminbi still must convince global investors that it is a reliable store of value over the medium to long term. Yet intolerance for sustained depreciation is perfectly compatible with significant short-term depreciations lasting several months or more, to correct current or capital account imbalances. The days of the one-way bet are over.

The bottom line is that Beijing has made a decisive commitment to a much more flexible and far more market-driven exchange rate—exactly what the U.S. Treasury Department and the International Monetary Fund have been suggesting for years. This commitment means that the exchange rate will cease to be a major point of friction between China and its trading partners. The interesting question now is how quickly China will follow up with the even bigger task of liberalizing its domestic financial system.

Hillary Clinton was not ready on day one.

The autopsies of her defeat for the Democratic nomination contest all point to a series of early blunders by her campaign. Her campaign plan was simple: leverage her name recognition, early money lead, and organization to win the Super-Tuesday contests, thereby wrapping up the Democratic nomination in early February. As the inevitable winner, she could be the centrist candidate on the Iraq war and tout her experience as a problem solver.

But her over-confident and over-priced campaign consultants failed to recognize that in a “change” election, caucus attenders were not excited by an Iraq war centrist who also happened to be a Washington insider. Clinton’s lack of a plan to effectively contest the caucuses allowed Barack Obama to win what would be the all important delegate race, and more importantly, give him the mantle of momentum while she appeared mired in the mud at a crucial mid-February stage of the campaign.

But she was ready on day two.

She hit her stride late in the game by impressively winning a series of primary contests. All the more remarkable: she did so on a shoestring election-to-election budget while the media wrote her off as a spoiler. With a newfound voice that emphasized she was a populist who would fight for the people, her new message resonated particularly well as the economy continued to falter.

Unfortunately, by the time she retooled her message and got rid of the people who had driven her campaign into the ditch— campaign manager Patti Solis Doyle and chief strategist Mark Penn—it was already too late. Obama had built a nearly insurmountable lead in the delegate count.

It is here that the rules matter.

If states had not moved up or “frontloaded” the date of their primaries and caucuses, under the misimpression that doing so would give them a greater voice in the 2008 nomination, Clinton might be the Democratic nominee.

She would have received more delegates from Florida and Michigan, two states that she would have likely won if all Democratic candidates had vigorously campaigned, but was denied a full slate because these states violated party rules by holding their elections too early. Counting these contests was important for her delegate count and to her argument that she had won more popular votes than Obama.

If states had not frontloaded their primaries and caucuses, she would have recovered from her early stumbles before it was too late. She would have minimized damage from her disastrous February, when Obama racked up an impressive string of victories even in Virginia, where she might have done better given her later strength.

The irony is that Clinton was expected to benefit from frontloading. Only a candidate with name recognition, money, and organization could compete. Lesser candidates like Joe Biden, Chris Dodd, Mike Gravel, Dennis Kucinich, Bill Richardson and even John Edwards would be quickly weeded out of the field, leaving her with only one real opponent to dispense with.

The lesson is that frontloading does not well serve the nomination process. Running for president is an unrehearsed drill. Mistakes will be made. Candidates become better as they learn how to campaign and to craft messages that work. Democratic Party leaders will undoubtedly look hard over the next four years at what steps can be taken to even out the flow of the nomination contests.

While these lessons may resound loudly for Democrats, they apply equally well to Republicans. Democrats permitted the process to play out over a longer time by awarding delegates proportionately; Republicans brought their nomination to a faster close by awarding delegates by winner-take-all. John McCain became the inevitable winner of his party’s nomination without even winning a state’s vote majority before his opponents dropped like flies.

While Republicans have delighted in the continued fight among the Democrats, McCain has been in a holding pattern since winning his nomination. Unable to use his time effectively to make headway with the American public, he has incurred problems in his own party. As evidence, 30 percent of South Dakota and Montana Republican primary voters registered a protest vote by voting for someone else.

Perhaps McCain won his party’s nomination too soon. He lost to George Bush in 2000 and has yet to demonstrate that he can run an effective general election campaign. He would have benefited from being more strongly tested, making more mistakes, and learning from them in the primary season. Now, he and his campaign will have to learn on the job in the general election, while they face, in Obama, an opponent who has been tempered in his party’s nomination fire stoked by Clinton.

Plenty of time remains for McCain to make his mistakes and for Obama to make more—and for both to recover before November. Campaigns often become so knee-jerk reactive to criticisms of any mistake that they fail to recognize the value in the lessons that may be learned. The primary election season is thus a valuable period for candidates to plumb their strengths and shore up their weaknesses, and we need to find a way to restore it as such.