Philipp Hildebrand: At the heart of a Swiss storm When Philipp Hildebrand was appointed chairman of the Swiss central bank two years ago, eyebrows were raised in some central banks. Never mind that Hildebrand, then 46, was young by central bank standards; he also cut an unusually debonair figure in the stolid Swiss bureaucratic world. He is suave, eloquent and international, a testament to his time abroad, including a stint at Moore Capital, the US hedge fund. Now those eyebrows have been raised again, and not for positive reasons. For a master of the universe, accustomed to rising effortlessly to global prominence, the past three weeks have been a nightmare for the 48-year-old. In recent days, it has emerged that his wife, Kashya, a former foreign exchange trader and also a former employee of Moore, sold Swiss francs to buy about $500,000 last summer, shortly before the SNB intervened massively to weaken the franc. Less than two months later an almost equivalent amount was sold back into francs, netting a handsome profit. FROM Person in the news This week the SNB revealed it had cleared him of breaking internal rules: he apparently did not know of the trades in advance, reported them to the SNB when he learnt of them, and subsequently donated the profits to charity. He has also batted off calls for him to resign; instead he is threatening legal action against the bank employer who leaked details of his family's financial details to right-wing politicians who oppose him. Nevertheless, the event is - at best - extremely embarrassing. It comes against the backdrop of a bigger tussle in Zurich. While it is his wife's dealings that have drawn attention, he has been attracting controversy for several years. That partly reflects bold decisions, but friends suggest it is also the cost of being an "outsider" who has dared to rock the boat. His background and mindset are unusual for a European bureaucrat. While as the son of a senior IBM manager, he grew up in comfortable surroundings in Zurich's so-called "Gold Coast," the lakeside villages where many bankers live, after an undergraduate degree in Toronto and a D.Phil at Oxford, in the 1990s he joined Moore Capital. A strategist not a trader, he became a partner in his six years at the firm, due not just to his intellect and formidable networking skills but also to a charm that sometimes borders on the manipulative. There he gained considerable wealth and met his wife. He also learnt a more subtle, but crucial, skill: embracing risk. For unlike most career bureaucrats, Mr Hildebrand has never been risk averse in career or policy choices. Despite his success at Moore's, he says he always intended to return home and had dreams of public service. In the late 1990s he returned as chief investment officer of private banks Vontobel and then Geneva-based Union Bancaire Privé. Then, in 2003, he was appointed junior member of the central bank's three-person governing body. The surprise appointment was poorly received by some SNB insiders, given the bank's traditions of internal promotion, and his youth and background. However, the step was seen as a deliberate attempt to inject more private sector savvy and dynamism into a highly respected, but musty, institution. Mr Hildebrand lived up to expectations, diversifying the bank's investment strategy to improve returns and - ironically - pushing for its first code of conduct for top executives. Then, in 2007, after being appointed deputy governor, he took his first big policy gamble, becoming the first western central banker to publicly demand tougher capital standards for banks. That infuriated powerful figures in the Swiss banking industry. Some started discreetly agitating for his removal. But Mr Hildebrand intensified his reform demands and the Lehman Brothers crisis in 2008 strengthened his position, enabling him in 2010 to become chairman. Since then, his policy calls have been bolder still. In 2010, the SNB intervened heavily to weaken the franc. But this failed to stem its rise. When it emerged that the gambit had created huge losses for the bank, rightwing politicians called for his head. Unrepentant, he launched a fresh intervention this year, with a currency peg and a wave of radical quantitative easing. This has stemmed the franc's rise. Yet the controversy remains. Many Swiss have been proud to see a compatriot making a name for his country - particularly at a time when there is concern that it is losing influence in world affairs. Many economists and policymakers argue that his bold moves and non-bureaucratic mindset are just what is needed amid the economic turmoil. However, detractors retort that his policies remain a gamble; having lost money for the SNB with the failed intervention, the longer-term impact of his quantitative easing is unclear, as is his ability to defend the new currency peg. And - as ever - there is the controversy over style. In a damage-limitation exercise, Mr Hildebrand revealed more background to the affair this week: his wife's trades apparently occurred after the family decided last year to sell a ski chalet they owned near the fashionable resort of Gstaad, because it was hardly used, for more than SFr3m. In November, they bought instead a smaller flat in Klosters, a ski resort much closer to Zurich, for a lower sum. Mrs Hildebrand - who has owned an art gallery and dealership since coming to Switzerland - then decided to buy dollars with that money, since she considered the currency "ridiculously cheap." The media have seized on remarks this week, such as when Mr Hildebrand said his wife "has always been a strong personality." He told the FT last night that his wife and their daughter have been "absolutely amazing." The couple enjoy holidays skiing. But there is little prospect of them enjoying that Klosters flat any time soon: he will need every ounce of his political skill and charm to emerge unscathed from the fallout from these trades. The writers are the FT's Switzerland Correspondent and US Managing Editor