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ffirs.indd i 06/12/12 11:52 AM
17 Proven
Currency
Trading
Strategies
MARIO SINGH
Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of Warranty: While the publisher and author have used their
best efforts in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect
to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any
implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may
be created or extended by sales representatives or written sales materials. The advice and
strategies contained herein may not be suitable for your situation. You should consult with a
professional where appropriate. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss
of profit or any other commercial damages, including but not limited to special, incidental,
consequential, or other damages.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Preface xi
Acknowledgments xix
Central Banks 51
Commercial and Investment Banks 58
vii
Multinational Corporations 62
Institutional Traders 68
Retail Forex Brokers 69
Retail Traders 70
Summary 70
The Experiment 88
Five Categories of Forex Traders 92
Your Perfect Strategy 98
Summary 107
Bibliography 239
About the Author 241
About the Website 243
Plus FXPRIMUS 100% bonus trading credit
Index 245
Y
ou can’t afford to ignore forex anymore.
This is an urgent message I carry everywhere I go. It really
doesn’t matter who we are or what stage in life we’re at. You could
be in school and you can’t seem to figure out the rules of global finance.
You could be holding down a job but you desire to make a decent second
income in your spare time.
You could already be involved in the financial markets as a retail trader
or investor, but with low yields and depressed growth all around the world,
you are searching for an asset class that offers unparalleled returns. You
might even be a fund manager who holds an international portfolio in dif-
ferent asset classes, such as equities, bonds, and commodities.
However, with central banks lowering rates and injecting record
amounts of liquidity into the financial system, you realize the importance
of protecting your entire portfolio against currency risks.
Finally, you might be someone running a multinational company. You
could be based in one country, but your offices span across many countries
all around the world. Expenses for salaries, infrastructure, machinery, and
supplies are paid out in different currencies every single month. As the
business gets larger, you can’t turn a blind eye to the currency fluctuations,
which have a significant impact to the company’s bottom line every month.
If you find yourself in any one of these categories, this book is for you.
The sooner we all understand the forex “game,” the better it is going to
be for us. Forex is a game for three reasons. First, playing it must be fun.
Second, we play it with an intention to win. Finally, it has rules. If you break
the rules, the rules will break you.
I had a painful start to forex trading because I broke a cardinal rule. Allow
me to share my story with you. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a smart
guy. I don’t have a finance degree or an economics degree.
xi
MY FIRST TRADE
My first trade was on the GBP/USD. It was on an uptrend, and the price had
reached a new high. This is it, I thought, rubbing my hands gleefully. I’m
going to be a millionaire by next Friday. Seeing that the price had reached a
new high, I was convinced that gravity would pull it right down.
I clicked “sell.” That poignant moment was the start of my painful les-
son. After I clicked “sell,” the price continued to creep up. That’s not sup-
posed to happen, I thought.
As prices continued climbing, I decided to hit the sell button again,
only this time with double the lot size (and double the intensity) as my first
trade. I reasoned that if I clicked twice the number of lots, all that needed
to happen was for prices to fall a little before I could see some nice profits.
After the second “sell” click, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The price
went up further. My hands started to get sweaty. My head started to shine
from the beads of sweat that started to trickle down from my bald head.
Murphy’s Law was in full motion. In desperation, I actually grabbed the
laptop and turned it upside down to paint me a picture of falling prices.
My ego was badly hurt.
“It’s got to come down,” I muttered to myself. At that point, I clicked
“sell” for a third time, with double the lot size of the second trade.
The numbers on my laptop screen at the time weren’t very far from the
numbers my friend had shown me. The only difference was that mine had a
stubborn negative sign preceding them that just wouldn’t go away. A couple
of days after my third dreaded click, the broker closed off all my positions.
I was hit with the dreaded margin call.
In a grand total of just six days, I had lost my entire account.
Whenever I share my story in my forex seminars, I replicate the sce-
nario and draw an uptrend on the whiteboard.
“Would you click ‘buy’ or ‘sell’ over here?” I always ask, as I circle the
highest point reached by the price. At every single seminar, most people
choose to sell, confident that high prices will fall.
It’s almost a consolation to know that we human beings are wired in
much the same way. Needless to say, after I blew up my account, I was
devastated.
Ϫ⬠Ϟ≵᳝៤ࡳⱘџϮˈা᳝៤ࡳⱘҎDŽ
Given my bubbly character, many people think that it’s easy being on cam-
era, speaking live to a camera that holds the attention of over 300 million
viewers. The truth for me is that it’s not.
“Mario, what do you think the CPI is going to be for Singapore?”
“Mario, what’s your view on the U.S. dollar this week?”
“Mario, do you think China will report a good number for trade surplus
this month?”
The TV anchor and the reporters on site fire questions from every
angle, and you need to have the answers at your fingertips. They expect
you to know, or you have no business being on the biggest stage in interna-
tional finance.
How ridiculous it would be if I were to fake an answer like “I think
inflation in Singapore is going to hit 65% next year.” I would be laughed off
the chair.
So I had to study. In fact, to be in that three-minute hot seat, I had to
study for three hours. That’s right: three full hours of study for three min-
utes on CNBC.
Thankfully, I did well. In fact, I did so well that I was called back, again
and again. CNBC has three major shows that cover the financial markets.
The early morning segment is called Squawk Box, in the early afternoon
it’s called Capital Connection, and the evening’s slot is called Worldwide
Exchange.
Eventually I was invited to appear on all three major shows. In fact, I
was then asked to be a guest host on Worldwide Exchange. As guest host,
I sat with the news anchor and instead of being there for three minutes, I
would be there for a full hour.
My job was to have a conversation with some of the most brilliant
financial minds on the planet who would come in and take their place on
the hot seat. As I warmed up to the new role as a guest host, I had an impor-
tant revelation. The job was getting easier. In fact, I didn’t have to study
when I was guest host.
Do you know why? Because this time, it was my turn to ask the all-
important question, “So, Jack, what’s your view on the U.S. dollar this week?”
This was my revelation: As you get better, it gets easier.
So, my friend, don’t wish that it were easier, wish that you were better.
Kaizen is the Japanese word for improvement. When we embrace
kaizen in any endeavor, mastery is bound to be the result.
My kaizen approach to forex trading has enabled me to be a consistently
profitable trader. Today, I am living the dream of traveling and spreading the
message of profitable forex trading everywhere I go. I’ve even had the privi-
lege to coach forex traders in some of the largest banks in the world. Forex
trading has given me this new life, and I know that it can do the same for you.
AUDIENCE
Today the Forex Market is considered the largest financial market in the
world. With that famous tagline, thousands of books have sprung up giving
people insights into this amazing market. I did not write this book with the
intention of adding to the vast list of global resources already available on
the topic of forex.
My inspiration for this book is drawn from three specific groups of
people:
1. All forex traders around the world. It is my humble wish that this book
will become the platinum standard in forex education. The rich con-
tent here will suit you regardless of which stage you are in your trading
career: beginner, intermediate, or advanced. Pay particular attention
to Chapter 5, which puts you through a fun and interesting quiz. At the
Pip
Pip stands for “price interest point.” It is the unit of measurement to
express the change in value between two currencies.
Let’s say that the current AUD/USD price is 1.0235. If the price rises to
1.0236 or falls to 1.0234, this is a movement of 0.0001, or 1 pip. If the current
PART FIVE
THE CYNICAL CONTINENT
XXI
Berlin and Paris
A
AT last the soft breath of spring warmed and conquered the great
harbor of frozen ice and our ship cleaved through. The first of June
we arrived in Hamburg. Nothing here of the fortress-like austerity of
Petrograd. Hamburg was big and full and busy with the business of
free unhampered commerce. Flocks of ships were loading and
unloading their rich cargoes. Sailors reeled through the low-down
streets in drunken irresponsibility, and there were many Negroes
showing their white teeth against all that white wealth.
I spent three days among the docks and the Negroes of different
nationalities and languages and then entrained for Berlin. Startlingly
changed was the spirit of Berlin after an interval of nine months. In
the fall of 1922 a dollar was worth about a thousand marks. There
appeared to be plenty of money in circulation among all classes, and
lots of new and stylish clothes were in evidence. Berlin was by a long
way brisker and brighter than London. I had a comfortable room with
a middle-class family. Said the head to me: "The workers are better
off than we. We have lost three-quarters of our investments and
incomes. But the workers are well paid and can buy new clothes,
while we of the middle class must wear the old. And the workers
have money to go to the theaters; they ride second-class in the
trains, and we must ride third."
But now all was changed. Premier Poincaré had seized the Ruhr
early in 1923 and the mark had skyrocketed. I cannot even recall
how many thousands I got for my dollar when I returned to Berlin in
the summer of 1923. For every minute the dollar became dearer and
dearer. But this fact sticks in my skull: From New York, Eugen
Boissevain cabled me twenty-five dollars to Berlin in October, 1922. I
was to receive payment (I don't know why) in marks. But just before
the amount arrived, I was obliged to leave Berlin for Russia. When I
returned to Berlin in June, 1923, my twenty-five dollars was worth
only twenty-five cents.
Speculation in dollars and pounds and francs and other foreign
moneys was mad. The corners of the principal streets were dotted
with money-changing kiosks. Many who possessed foreign money
developed a close-fisted psychosis. They didn't want to change their
bills into marks until obliged to. And when they had to, it was with
regret, for the next minute the dollar would be worth a few marks
more. A German Communist friend told me about a certain Anglo-
American comrade who would delay paying his bills even though
long overdue until the dollar climbed to a new high. By that method
he paid about one-half only of the cost of what he actually owed.
Said the German Communist bitterly: "Even the foreign comrades
are exploiting the German people." Nearly everybody was doing it. I
remember a so-called radical publisher who had worked out a
profitable plan of printing American books in Germany, because
labor and material there were so cheap, and exporting them to sell in
America.
My Japanese friend, Sen Katayama, had warned me against
returning to Germany. He thought I would be molested because for a
couple of years the press of Europe and America had been carrying
atrocity stories about the doings of the French black soldiers on the
Rhine. But I said I would go back to Germany. Personally, I had not
sensed any feeling against me as a Negro in the fall of 1923
because of the black troops on the Rhine. Everywhere I had been
treated much better and with altogether more consideration than in
America and England. Often when I stepped into a café there were
friendly greetings—"Schwartz' Mohr"—and free drinks. And now I felt
that if Negroes were hated and mistreated by the Germans because
of the black troops on the Rhine, I wanted to authenticate the
changed sentiment for myself. I did not want to report by hearsay
that the Germans were mistreating Negroes. And that was why I
went from the free port of Hamburg to Berlin, instead of going
directly to Paris.
Well, everywhere in hotels, cafés, dancing halls, restaurants and
trains, on the river boats and in the streets, I met with no feeling of
hostility. In spite of the French black troops on the Rhine I was
treated even better in Berlin in 1923 than in 1922. Of course, Berlin
was mightily depressed because of the French occupation of the
Ruhr. In the hotel where I stayed there was posted a sign asking the
guests not to speak the French language. The spirit of depression
was expressed more eloquently in the exchanges than anywhere.
The working people were not as prosperous and happy as in the fall
of 1922, because the new inflation caused by the French occupation
had cut down their wages to the bone. If Poincaré of Lorraine,
consumed by an overwhelming fear and hatred of the Germans, had
desired to perpetuate the hatred between the Germans and the
French forever, he could not have devised a better way.
There was something sullen and bitter, hostile and resentful in the
atmosphere of Berlin. And I believe Berlin expressed the resentful
spirit of all of Germany. There were Wandervögel everywhere like a
plague of flies. They had lost their romantic flavor. More imitation
than real Wandervögel, with their knapsacks slung over their
shoulders, casually taking to the streets as nature lovers take to the
woods, and they gave one a strange impression of Berlin as a
futuristic forest.
I do not know of anything that has rendered so perfectly the
atmosphere, temper and tempo of the Berlin of that period than
George Grosz's Ecce Homo. For me that book of drawings is a rare
and iconoclastic monument of this closing era even as Rabelais is of
the Renaissance. I had the unique and unforgettable honor and
pleasure of knowing George Grosz in Moscow. His photograph and
two pages of his drawings had appeared in the special pictorial
section of Pravda, which also carried a photograph of myself. It was
the first time I had seen any of Grosz's drawings. They gripped me. I
sought an opportunity to meet him in the Congress Hall of the
Kremlin.
When I returned to Berlin I hunted him up to ask him to sign a copy
of Ecce Homo, which I had bought privately. The book was banned
by the government of the Social Democracy. Grosz's remarkable
personality gave not the slightest hint of the artistic type. And in his
little apartment, his pretty and pleasant frau had surrounded him with
the neatest of bourgeois comforts. He fitted respectably into the
frame, and if you did not know he was an artist, you might have
taken him for a responsible bank clerk. Yet there was a charming
felicity and harmony in the ménage. It gave the impression that
Grosz needed just that kind of domestic background from which he
could swing up and out with his powerful artistic punches.
Grosz in his appearance seemed the perfect type of a conservative
Prussian. But a careful study of his nervous-boyish and whimsical
eyes revealed the revolutionary artist in him. He was a real
inspiration to other artists. I heard many lyrical appreciations of his
work, a fine tribute to the man, for the breed of artists (judging from
my experience on The Liberator and among the cosmopolites in
France) are hell-hard on their contemporaries. They are liberal and
lavish in praise of the dead only or the great. Writers are perhaps
more generous. Marsden Hartley, whom I happened across in Berlin,
was ecstatic in praise of Grosz's work. But the two artists had never
met, so I introduced them. Physically, Grosz was as impressive as
his amazingly ruthless drawings, and Marsden Hartley was equally
as ecstatic in praise of his person.
I met also Pierre Loving, the writer and critic, who spoke German
and kindly hunted me up a large room, exactly right to live and work
in. He introduced me to Josephine Herbst, who was very kind and
helpful in a practical and also artistic way. Soon after I met again the
Baroness von Freytag-Loringhoven, selling newspapers in the street.
Our meeting surprised both of us. We talked a little, but she had to
sell her newspapers, for she said her rent was overdue. So we made
a rendezvous for the next evening at the Romanisher Café.
It was a sad rendezvous. The Baroness in Greenwich Village,
arrayed in gaudy accoutrements, was a character. Now, in German
homespun, she was just a poor pitiful frau. She said she had come
to Germany to write because the cost of living was cheap there. But
she complained that she had been ditched. She didn't make it clear
by whom or what. So instead of writing she was crying news. She
wished that she was back in New York, she said. I was accompanied
by an American student lad whom I had met at the American
Express office. He came from one of the western cities. He
professed a liking for me, because of my poetry, he said. He had
plenty of money and was always treating me to more drinks than
were good for me. I told him that the Baroness was a real poet and
that he might give her a couple of dollars. He generously produced
five, and we were all very happy for it.
I had completed my plans to go to Paris when, curiously, I began
meeting a number of the comrades whom I had known in Moscow.
One day in the Unter den Linden I bumped up against the Hindu
youth who had vanished so strangely from the Lux Hotel in Moscow.
"I thought you were dead!" I cried.
"And I thought I was going to die," he said. He related the story of his
arrest by the O.G.P.U. because he had been denounced as a spy by
the head of the Indian delegation in Moscow. He said the O.G.P.U.
endeavored to get him to confess, but he had insisted that he was
not a spy. He had had differences with the head of the Indian
delegation and had thought of giving up revolutionary work and
returning to student life. (His father had sent him to Europe to study.)
He was kept in O.G.P.U. custody for months. Finally he was sent to
some place up Archangel way, and from there he had escaped
across the border into Finland. He had always been a thin enough
fellow; now he looked like a mosquito. I told him I didn't think he had
"escaped," as he thought, but that he had simply been allowed to
escape. He asked me why, whether I had had any inside information.
But I merely nodded my head and looked mysterious. Poor chap! He
was so down in spirits, I didn't want to tell him that I thought the
O.G.P.U. were convinced that he was not a spy, but merely a perfect
specimen of a moron.
The next day, again on the Unter den Linden, I met Roy, the leader
of the Indian delegation. Roy was editing a propaganda paper in
Berlin, which was distributed in India. He invited me up to his office
and asked me to contribute an article to his paper about
Communism and the Negro. I consulted an English friend, a
Communist sympathizer, and he advised me to keep away from the
Indian movement because it was too "complicated." The advice was
just the kind I was fishing for and I didn't write the article or see Roy
again before I left Berlin.
XXII
Friends in France
I HAD been posing naked in Paris studios to earn my daily bread and
that undermined my health. The studios were badly heated. My body
reacted against the lack of warmth after being for many years