Trump officially maintains that the economy can grow at an annual rate of 4 percent. Some of his advisers have tried to dial back this expectation: Mnuchin has said that growth of 3 percent is achievable. But even that is way above the Fed’s 1.8 percent estimate of sustainable growth. If the Fed, acting on its judgment of the safe speed limit, continues to raise interest rates, it will be announcing that the administration’s growth ambitions are delusional. The president, for his part, can be expected to believe that the monetary gurus are conspiring to frustrate his promises to voters.

Higher interest rates do not merely dampen growth; they do so through specific channels. Interest-rate-sensitive parts of the economy get squeezed first; the prime example is real estate, which may not be welcome news to this particular president. The tradable parts of the economy also suffer, because higher interest rates attract capital from abroad, putting upward pressure on the dollar and hence making it more expensive for foreigners to buy American goods. That will appeal even less to Trump, because the most tradable sector of all is manufacturing.

During his campaign, Trump pledged to protect blue-collar workers in the industrial swing states. If the Fed sustains a strong dollar, precisely those workers will suffer. Trump likewise pledged to cut the trade deficit. A strong dollar may cause its expansion. Even Trump’s election promises about immigration may be undone. The stronger the dollar, the greater the incentive for a Mexican worker to earn wages in the U.S. and send money home to relatives.

In sum, the White House and the Fed are likely to find themselves at loggerheads. The question is how the parties to this conflict will choose to behave. Trump may indulge his belligerent instincts, or he may listen to his pragmatic counselors. The Fed, for its part, may cave in to pressure, as it did under Martin and then Burns. Or it may resist, following the Greenspan model.

As a street-fighting defender of the Fed’s independence, Greenspan was a master. During his showdown with George H. W. Bush’s administration, the Treasury tried to get a bill through Congress that would have curbed the Fed’s regulatory power; Greenspan used his relationships with lawmakers to bury the initiative. When Bush’s lieutenants came after him, whispering slanders to the press, they got a taste of their own medicine: Greenspan was on friendly terms with journalists, and he could plant stories better than anyone. So skillfully did Greenspan manage his reputation that he proved impossible to unseat. The Bush team reluctantly appointed him to a second term, fearing that removing him might shake Wall Street’s confidence.

Janet Yellen will struggle to replicate some parts of the Greenspan model. Whereas Greenspan had strong ties to both Republicans and Democrats, Yellen lacks Republican allies—a vulnerability, given the makeup of today’s Congress. Whereas Greenspan operated in pre-Twitter Washington, Yellen faces a vicious media free-for-all. Yet there is one big historical lesson that Yellen can apply. And she holds an ace, if she is willing to use it.