Showing posts with label Credit Crisis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Credit Crisis. Show all posts

Friday, December 19, 2008

The end of the hedge fund?

Sebastian Mallaby
The Washington Post
December 18, 2008


For sheer toe-curling embarrassment, it may be a while before Wall Street does better than the Bernard Madoff scandal. Here was a rogue who practically telegraphed his unreliability by hiring a tiny, no-name audit firm, by reporting monthly investment results that never fluctuated and by claiming a trading strategy that could not possibly have been implemented given the billions of dollars he managed. And yet, despite these warnings, the rich, the famous and the supposedly sophisticated entrusted their money to Madoff, who defrauded them with the most laughably crude of methods — an old-fashioned Ponzi scam.

The question this prompts is not really about regulation, though some argue otherwise. Even if you define Madoff’s investment outfit as a hedge fund, which for various reasons is debatable, there’s nothing in this saga that supports clamping down on the industry.

Those who favor regulation of hedge funds start by insisting that they must register with the Securities and Exchange Commission. Well, Madoff had registered with the SEC voluntarily, and a fat lot of good it did. Those who support regulation also say that hedge funds should disclose more of what they do. Well, Madoff did make some disclosures; it’s just that they weren’t true. As SEC Chairman Chris Cox has all but admitted, the scandal doesn’t show that his agency lacked the power to regulate; it shows that it failed to exercise it. Responding to this scandal with more regulation would be like thrusting more pills on a patient who refuses medication.

The real question posed by this episode concerns the market’s response. Madoff illustrates a problem with investment outfits that claim to have some special sauce that is too valuable to discuss. People who entrusted their money to Madoff thought he had a clever options trading strategy; they were wrong. Worse, people who entrusted their money to respected banks and investment advisers had no idea that their savings were being passed out the back door to Madoff. On Monday, I happened to be visiting one of the most famous traders in Manhattan. He had invested with a hedge fund that had in turn invested with Madoff, hot-potato style.

The good news is that Madoff’s fraud was so brazen that any future imitators may be spotted. A newly chastened wealth management industry will be warier of people who hire bucket-shop auditors; the “fund of funds” industry, which gets paid to do due diligence on hedge funds, will feel appropriate pressure to redouble its efforts. Even though hedge fund managers may legitimately refuse to disclose their trading strategies, there are some things they can be open about. Do they trade through a respected external broker? (Madoff apparently didn’t.) If their returns clock in at 1 percent per month with eerie consistency, can they explain why? (Madoff could not have.)

But the bad news is that less-brazen fraudsters may be impossible to detect. As the economists Dean Foster and H. Peyton Young have elegantly demonstrated, hedge funds can fake brilliance by taking a small risk of implosion, and since implosion would hurt them less than their customers, some will rationally decide that faking is the way to go. A fund can take in $100, stick it in the S&P 500 index, then earn, say, $5 by selling options to people who want to insure themselves against a market collapse. If the collapse occurs, the hedge fund’s value will go to zero. But, over a five- or even 10-year time frame, the odds are good that a collapse won’t happen. So each year the fund manager will beat the S&P 500 index by 5 percentage points. He will be hailed as a genius.

Foster and Young suggest that this Achilles’ heel could eventually kill hedge funds. Because it is possible to commit undetected fraud, the industry will attract fraudsters; eventually, investors will realize that they can’t tell the good guys from the bad and yank their money out. If this is going to happen, the Madoff scandal could be the catalyst, especially because it has hit at a time when hedge funds are in trouble for other reasons. Hedge fund strategies depend on borrowing, or “leverage,” which is hard to come by now. They often depend on “shorting” stocks — that is, betting that they’ll fall in value — but regulators have restricted that practice. Even before the Madoff scandal, there were estimates that hedge fund assets might shrink from just under $2 trillion a few months ago to perhaps $1.4 trillion.

But it would be wrong to count the hedge funds out. Perhaps half of all funds use strategies about which there is no great secret, so disclosure is possible: The Foster-Young argument does not cut so sharply here. The other half can find ways to signal their honesty without disclosing their tactics: The most obvious is for managers to keep a serious amount of their own money in their funds. Good hedge funds really do know how to make money out of market inefficiencies. After the past 18 months of mayhem, it should be painfully obvious that there is plenty of inefficiency around.

SEBASTIAN MALLABY is a fellow for International Economics with the Council on Foreign Relations.

Affluents Anonymous

HedgeCoNet - 2008 Dec 20 – Affluents Anonymous
http://bit.ly/7Nk


RICH PICKINGS: Affluents anonymous
By James Thomson


As the holiday season settles in, a sombre mood is descending on mansions from Melbourne to Mumbai, from Mayfair to Manhattan, from Monte Carlo to Moscow.

As we have documented throughout 2008, this has been an ugly year for the world’s wealthiest entrepreneurs. Tumbling share prices, lost bonuses, corporate collapses, plummeting house prices – the relentless bad news doesn’t just hurt a wealthy person’s corporeal self, it can damage their very psyche.

You probably don’t have much concern for the mental well-being of the rich – let them cry themselves to sleep on their giant pillows of money, I hear you say. But provision of specialist psychological services for wealthy investors has grown strongly over the last decade, in line with the entire wealth management industry.

Before 2007, the challenge for professionals working in this field was helping the wealthy deal with the enormous piles of money they had made, often extremely quickly.

In the last few months, the focus has switched to helping the rich cope with loss – of money, and identity.

Dr Hugh Joffe, a clinical psychologist based in the leafy Sydney suburb of Vaucluse, regularly consults to wealthy individuals.

He says the speed with which the downturn has torn through global financial markets has been, for many of his wealthy clients, particularly hard to deal with. After 15 years of watching the economy grow and their fortunes rise, Joffe’s clients have been forced to face up to a new reality.

“People had an illusion of certainty, and that’s all been taken away,” Joffe says.

While sweeping generalisations about the inner workings of a group of people’s minds are dangerous, it’s pretty safe to say that most entrepreneurs are extremely driven people.

While money might not be their primary driver – the thrill of building a business or leading a team or creating new product may motivate certain individuals – the size of your fortune does provide a basic measure of success. And besides, the notion of wealth remains closely tied to power, security, freedom, success, prestige and, for many people, happiness.

So how are the wealthy dealing with the psychological scarring from this downturn?

Psychologists and therapists are one way to go, but an increasingly popular option for high-net-worth individuals in the United States is “wealth peering” – a sort of group therapy for the rich that has been compared with Alcoholics Anonymous.

There are several organisations running wealth peering in the US, including Tiger 21, CCC Alliance and Family Office Exchange. Laird Pendleton, co-founder of CCC Alliance, told Dow Jones recently that the level of interest from prospective members during the past two months has been two to three times greater than usual.

Tiger 21, which describes itself as the premier wealth peering organisation in America, has 170 members who meet in 10 to 12 person groups. Membership fees are $44,000 a year and members must have at least $US10 million to gain admission. Tiger 21 has seven offices across the US and plans for six more next year. The organisation even claims to have fielded inquiries from Australia in recent months.

The peer-to-peer groups usually meet once a month and are also able to attend special presentations on investing, lifestyle, family and economics. More recently Tiger 21 has started holding bi-weekly conference calls for members, to discuss issues such as the state of the hedge fund market, the best places to park cash in the falling market and the potential impact of threats to hedge funds.

Tiger 21 co-founder and chairman Michael Sonnenfeldt says the conference calls have quickly become the most popular venue for members, with 50 to 70 members sharing their informed financial crisis views and experiences.

“This has been especially helpful at the time when most high-net-worth individuals are evaluating their portfolios and those who manage them,” he says. “These calls, along with our private web forums, and the monthly meetings, are often the only places where are our members can come for unbiased advice – advice from peers with the sole agenda of sharing personal insights and knowledge – and even opportunities.”

Another thing that makes Tiger 21 unique is the once-a-year “portfolio defence” sessions that each member is required to go through. The sessions involve the member presenting the personal investment portfolios to the group for an in-depth review.

“Financial results are presented in writing, and the presenting member will need to “defend” the stated objectives and demonstrate how the portfolio’s composition and performance reflect these objectives,” the Tiger 21 website says.

The idea is the member can then “harness the collective intelligence of the group by identifying potential problems or opportunities”.

Given the extraordinary events of the last year, it’s a fair bet that these portfolio defence sessions would involve a fair deal of collective soul-searching.

On Wall Street, Bonuses, Not Profits, Were Real

The New York Times

December 18, 2008
The Reckoning

On Wall Street, Bonuses, Not Profits, Were Real

“As a result of the extraordinary growth at Merrill during my tenure as C.E.O., the board saw fit to increase my compensation each year.”

E. Stanley O’Neal, the former chief executive of Merrill Lynch, March 2008

For Dow Kim, 2006 was a very good year. While his salary at Merrill Lynch was $350,000, his total compensation was 100 times that — $35 million.

The difference between the two amounts was his bonus, a rich reward for the robust earnings made by the traders he oversaw in Merrill’s mortgage business.

Mr. Kim’s colleagues, not only at his level, but far down the ranks, also pocketed large paychecks. In all, Merrill handed out $5 billion to $6 billion in bonuses that year. A 20-something analyst with a base salary of $130,000 collected a bonus of $250,000. And a 30-something trader with a $180,000 salary got $5 million.

But Merrill’s record earnings in 2006 — $7.5 billion — turned out to be a mirage. The company has since lost three times that amount, largely because the mortgage investments that supposedly had powered some of those profits plunged in value.

Unlike the earnings, however, the bonuses have not been reversed.

As regulators and shareholders sift through the rubble of the financial crisis, questions are being asked about what role lavish bonuses played in the debacle. Scrutiny over pay is intensifying as banks like Merrill prepare to dole out bonuses even after they have had to be propped up with billions of dollars of taxpayers’ money. While bonuses are expected to be half of what they were a year ago, some bankers could still collect millions of dollars.

Critics say bonuses never should have been so big in the first place, because they were based on ephemeral earnings. These people contend that Wall Street’s pay structure, in which bonuses are based on short-term profits, encouraged employees to act like gamblers at a casino — and let them collect their winnings while the roulette wheel was still spinning.

“Compensation was flawed top to bottom,” said Lucian A. Bebchuk, a professor at Harvard Law School and an expert on compensation. “The whole organization was responding to distorted incentives.”

Even Wall Streeters concede they were dazzled by the money. To earn bigger bonuses, many traders ignored or played down the risks they took until their bonuses were paid. Their bosses often turned a blind eye because it was in their interest as well.

“That’s a call that senior management or risk management should question, but of course their pay was tied to it too,” said Brian Lin, a former mortgage trader at Merrill Lynch.

The highest-ranking executives at four firms have agreed under pressure to go without their bonuses, including John A. Thain, who initially wanted a bonus this year since he joined Merrill Lynch as chief executive after its ill-fated mortgage bets were made. And four former executives at one hard-hit bank, UBS of Switzerland, recently volunteered to return some of the bonuses they were paid before the financial crisis. But few think others on Wall Street will follow that lead.

For now, most banks are looking forward rather than backward. Morgan Stanley and UBS are attaching new strings to bonuses, allowing them to pull back part of workers’ payouts if they turn out to have been based on illusory profits. Those policies, had they been in place in recent years, might have clawed back hundreds of millions of dollars of compensation paid out in 2006 to employees at all levels, including senior executives who are still at those banks.

A Bonus Bonanza

For Wall Street, much of this decade represented a new Gilded Age. Salaries were merely play money — a pittance compared to bonuses. Bonus season became an annual celebration of the riches to be had in the markets. That was especially so in the New York area, where nearly $1 out of every $4 that companies paid employees last year went to someone in the financial industry. Bankers celebrated with five-figure dinners, vied to outspend each other at charity auctions and spent their newfound fortunes on new homes, cars and art.

The bonanza redefined success for an entire generation. Graduates of top universities sought their fortunes in banking, rather than in careers like medicine, engineering or teaching. Wall Street worked its rookies hard, but it held out the promise of rich rewards. In college dorms, tales of 30-year-olds pulling down $5 million a year were legion.

While top executives received the biggest bonuses, what is striking is how many employees throughout the ranks took home large paychecks. On Wall Street, the first goal was to make “a buck” — a million dollars. More than 100 people in Merrill’s bond unit alone broke the million-dollar mark in 2006. Goldman Sachs paid more than $20 million apiece to more than 50 people that year, according to a person familiar with the matter. Goldman declined to comment.

Pay was tied to profit, and profit to the easy, borrowed money that could be invested in markets like mortgage securities. As the financial industry’s role in the economy grew, workers’ pay ballooned, leaping sixfold since 1975, nearly twice as much as the increase in pay for the average American worker.

“The financial services industry was in a bubble," said Mark Zandi, chief economist at Moody’s Economy.com. “The industry got a bigger share of the economic pie.”

A Money Machine

Dow Kim stepped into this milieu in the mid-1980s, fresh from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania. Born in Seoul and raised there and in Singapore, Mr. Kim moved to the United States at 16 to attend Phillips Academy in Andover, Mass. A quiet workaholic in an industry of workaholics, he seemed to rise through the ranks by sheer will. After a stint trading bonds in Tokyo, he moved to New York to oversee Merrill’s fixed-income business in 2001. Two years later, he became co-president.

Even as tremors began to reverberate through the housing market and his own company, Mr. Kim exuded optimism.

After several of his key deputies left the firm in the summer of 2006, he appointed a former colleague from Asia, Osman Semerci, as his deputy, and beneath Mr. Semerci he installed Dale M. Lattanzio and Douglas J. Mallach. Mr. Lattanzio promptly purchased a $5 million home, as well as oceanfront property in Mantoloking, a wealthy enclave in New Jersey, according to county records.

Merrill and the executives in this article declined to comment or say whether they would return past bonuses. Mr. Mallach did not return telephone calls.

Mr. Semerci, Mr. Lattanzio and Mr. Mallach joined Mr. Kim as Merrill entered a new phase in its mortgage buildup. That September, the bank spent $1.3 billion to buy the First Franklin Financial Corporation, a mortgage lender in California, in part so it could bundle its mortgages into lucrative bonds.

Yet Mr. Kim was growing restless. That same month, he told E. Stanley O’Neal, Merrill’s chief executive, that he was considering starting his own hedge fund. His traders were stunned. But Mr. O’Neal persuaded Mr. Kim to stay, assuring him that the future was bright for Merrill’s mortgage business, and, by extension, for Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim stepped to the lectern on the bond trading floor and told his anxious traders that he was not going anywhere, and that business was looking up, according to four former employees who were there. The traders erupted in applause.

“No one wanted to stop this thing,” said former mortgage analyst at Merrill. “It was a machine, and we all knew it was going to be a very, very good year.”

Merrill Lynch celebrated its success even before the year was over. In November, the company hosted a three-day golf tournament at Pebble Beach, Calif.

Mr. Kim, an avid golfer, played alongside William H. Gross, a founder of Pimco, the big bond house; and Ralph R. Cioffi, who oversaw two Bear Stearns hedge funds whose subsequent collapse in 2007 would send shock waves through the financial world.

“There didn’t seem to be an end in sight,” said a person who attended the tournament.

Back in New York, Mr. Kim’s team was eagerly bundling risky home mortgages into bonds. One of the last deals they put together that year was called “Costa Bella,” or beautiful coast — a name that recalls Pebble Beach. The $500 million bundle of loans, a type of investment known as a collateralized debt obligation, was managed by Mr. Gross’s Pimco.

Merrill Lynch collected about $5 million in fees for concocting Costa Bella, which included mortgages originated by First Franklin.

But Costa Bella, like so many other C.D.O.’s, was filled with loans that borrowers could not repay. Initially part of it was rated AAA, but Costa Bella is now deeply troubled. The losses on the investment far exceed the money Merrill collected for putting the deal together.

So Much for So Few

By the time Costa Bella ran into trouble, the Merrill bankers who had devised it had collected their bonuses for 2006. Mr. Kim’s fixed-income unit generated more than half of Merrill’s revenue that year, according to people with direct knowledge of the matter. As a reward, Mr. O’Neal and Mr. Kim paid nearly a third of Merrill’s $5 billion to $6 billion bonus pool to the 2,000 professionals in the division.

Mr. O’Neal himself was paid $46 million, according to Equilar, an executive compensation research firm and data provider in California. Mr. Kim received $35 million. About 57 percent of their pay was in stock, which would lose much of its value over the next two years, but even the cash portions of their bonus were generous: $18.5 million for Mr. O’Neal, and $14.5 million for Mr. Kim, according to Equilar.

Mr. Kim and his deputies were given wide discretion about how to dole out their pot of money. Mr. Semerci was among the highest earners in 2006, at more than $20 million. Below him, Mr. Mallach and Mr. Lattanzio each earned more than $10 million. They were among just over 100 people who accounted for some $500 million of the pool, according to people with direct knowledge of the matter.

After that blowout, Merrill pushed even deeper into the mortgage business, despite growing signs that the housing bubble was starting to burst. That decision proved disastrous. As the problems in the subprime mortgage market exploded into a full-blown crisis, the value of Merrill’s investments plummeted. The firm has since written down its investments by more than $54 billion, selling some of them for pennies on the dollar.

Mr. Lin, the former Merrill trader, arrived late to the party. He was one of the last people hired onto Merrill’s mortgage desk, in the summer of 2007. Even then, Merrill guaranteed Mr. Lin a bonus if he joined the firm. Mr. Lin would not disclose his bonus, but such payouts were often in the seven figures.

Mr. Lin said he quickly noticed that traders across Wall Street were reluctant to admit what now seems so obvious: Their mortgage investments were worth far less than they had thought.

“It’s always human nature,” said Mr. Lin, who lost his job at Merrill last summer and now works at RRMS Advisors, a consulting firm that advises investors in troubled mortgage investments. “You want to pull for the market to do well because you’re vested.”

But critics question why Wall Street embraced the risky deals even as the housing and mortgage markets began to weaken.

“What happened to their investments was of no interest to them, because they would already be paid,” said Paul Hodgson, senior research associate at the Corporate Library, a shareholder activist group. Some Wall Street executives argue that paying a larger portion of bonuses in the form of stock, rather than in cash, might keep employees from making short-sighted decision. But Mr. Hodgson contended that would not go far enough, in part because the cash rewards alone were so high. Mr. Kim, for example, was paid a total of $116.6 million in cash and stock from 2001 to 2007. Of that, $55 million was in cash, according to Equilar.

Leaving the Scene

As the damage at Merrill became clear in 2007, Mr. Kim, his deputies and finally Mr. O’Neal left the firm. Mr. Kim opened a hedge fund, but it quickly closed. Mr. Semerci and Mr. Lattanzio landed at a hedge fund in London.

All three departed without collecting bonuses in 2007. Mr. O’Neal, however, got even richer by leaving Merrill Lynch. He was awarded an exit package worth $161 million.

Clawing back the 2006 bonuses at Merrill would not come close to making up for the company’s losses, which exceed all the profits that the firm earned over the previous 20 years. This fall, the once-proud firm was sold to Bank of America, ending its 94-year history as an independent firm.

Mr. Bebchuk of Harvard Law School said investment banks like Merrill were brought to their knees because their employees chased after the rich rewards that executives promised them.

“They were trying to get as much of this or that paper, they were doing it with excitement and vigor, and that was because they knew they would be making huge amounts of money by the end of the year,” he said.

Ben White contributed reporting.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Risks of Transferring Risk

University of Chicago's Douglas Baird on the risks of transferring risk

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Crowell.gifSpeaking at Crowell & Moring LLPs Credit Default Swaps conference on Thursday, Douglas G. Baird, a professor of law at the University of Chicago, talked about the somewhat problematic nature of the derivatives.

"The big risk with credit default swaps is the big difference between the party that holds the risk and the party with control of the underlying asset," Baird said.

"If you come to a bank and tell them you're going to have to file bankruptcy tomorrow if you don't get a waiver, previously they would say, 'Let's work something out.'

"Now they aren't holding the risk; the issuer of the credit default swaps is," he continued. "So you're telling the bank that if they don't give you the waiver, they'll be paid off in full right away and never have to talk to you again."

Baird continued, saying that the situation hasn't reached that point because issuers are there helping to keep the bondholders in check, but that it is a real concern. - George White

See Crowell & Moring LLPs Credit Default Swaps conference agenda
See more Dealscape posts on the CDS conference Tags:

Regulation of credit default swaps

Inside The Deal: Paul Hastings' Robert Claassen on the regulation of credit default swaps



Monday, December 1, 2008

Credit-card industry may cut $2 trillion lines: analyst

Credit-card industry may cut $2 trillion lines: analyst

Reuters Mon Dec 1, 2008 4:06pm EST

Photo

(Reuters) - The U.S. credit-card industry may pull back well over $2 trillion of lines over the next 18 months due to risk aversion and regulatory changes, leading to sharp declines in consumer spending, prominent banking analyst Meredith Whitney said.

The credit card is the second key source of consumer liquidity, the first being jobs, the Oppenheimer & Co analyst noted.

"In other words, we expect available consumer liquidity in the form of credit-card lines to decline by 45 percent."

Bank of America Corp, Citigroup Inc and JPMorgan Chase & Co represent over half of the estimated U.S. card outstandings as of September 30, and each company has discussed reducing card exposure or slowing growth, Whitney said.

Closing millions of accounts, cutting credit lines and raising interest rates are just some of the moves credit card issuers are using to try to inoculate themselves from a tsunami of expected consumer defaults.

A consolidated U.S. lending market that is pulling back on credit is also posing a risk to the overall consumer liquidity, Whitney said.

Mortgages and credit cards are now dominated by five players who are all pulling back liquidity, making reductions in consumer liquidity seem unavoidable, she said.

"We are now beginning to see evidence of broad-based declines in overall consumer liquidity."

"Already, we have witnessed the entire mortgage market hit a wall, and we believe it will, for the first time ever, show actual shrinkage over the next few months," she wrote.

The credit card market will be 18 months behind the mortgage market and will begin to shrink by mid-2010, Whitney said.

Whitney also expects home prices to continue falling another 20 percent hurt by lower liquidity. They are down 23 percent from their peak, she said.

"In a country that offers hundreds of cereal and soda pop choices, the banking industry has become one that offers very few choices," Whitney wrote in a note dated November 30.

She also said credit lines to consumers through home equity and credit cards had been cut back from the second-quarter levels.

"Pulling credit when job losses are increasing by over 50 percent year-over-year in most key states is a dangerous and unprecedented combination, in our view," the analyst said.

Most of the solutions to the situation involve government intervention, and all of them require more dilutive capital to existing lenders, she said.

"Accordingly, we continue to be cautious on our outlook on US banks."

SUGGESTIONS

In a column in the Financial Times, Whitney suggested four adoptable changes to make a difference.

The first would be to re-regionalize lending, which has gone from "knowing your customer" or local lending, to relying on what have proven to be unreliable FICO credit scores and centralized underwriting, due to the nationwide consolidation since the early 1990s, she wrote in the column.

Expanding the Federal Deposit Insurance Corp's guarantee for bank debt will also help as the banks need to know they can access reasonably priced credit for an extended period to continue to extend new credit lines, she wrote in the column.

Whitney also advised delaying the introduction of new accounting rules, which would bring off-balance-sheet assets back on balance sheet, until 2011 or 2012, as the primary assets that will come back are credit card loans.

Whitney suggested amending the proposal on Unfair and Deceptive Lending Practices that is set to be adopted in 2010, saying restricting lenders' ability to reprice an unsecured loan will cause them to stop lending or to lend less.

(Reporting by Neha Singh and Amiteshwar Singh in Bangalore; Editing by Vinu Pilakkott, Jarshad Kakkrakandy)

Same Old New Deal? Op-Ed Washington Post

Same Old New Deal?


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Sunday, November 30, 2008; Page B07

Early in what became the Great Depression, John Maynard Keynes was asked if anything similar had ever happened. "Yes," he replied, "it was called the Dark Ages, and it lasted 400 years." It did take 25 years, until November 1954, for the Dow to return to the peak it reached in September 1929. So caution is sensible concerning calls for a new New Deal.

The assumption is that the New Deal vanquished the Depression. Intelligent, informed people differ about why the Depression lasted so long. But people whose recipe for recovery today is another New Deal should remember that America's biggest industrial collapse occurred in 1937, eight years after the 1929 stock market crash and nearly five years into the New Deal. In 1939, after a decade of frantic federal spending -- President Herbert Hoover increased it more than 50 percent between 1929 and the inauguration of Franklin Roosevelt -- unemployment was 17.2 percent.

"I say after eight years of this administration we have just as much unemployment as when we started," lamented Henry Morgenthau, FDR's Treasury secretary. Unemployment declined when America began selling materials to nations engaged in a war America would soon join.

In "The Forgotten Man: A New History of the Great Depression," Amity Shlaes of the Council on Foreign Relations and Bloomberg News argues that government policies, beyond the Federal Reserve's tight money, deepened and prolonged the Depression. The policies included encouraging strong unions and higher wages than lagging productivity justified, on the theory that workers' spending would be stimulative. Instead, corporate profits -- prerequisites for job-creating investments -- were excessively drained into labor expenses that left many workers priced out of the market.

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In a 2004 paper, Harold L. Cole of the University of California at Los Angeles and Lee E. Ohanian of UCLA and the Federal Reserve Bank of Minneapolis argued that the Depression would have ended in 1936, rather than in 1943, were it not for policies that magnified the power of labor and encouraged the cartelization of industries. These policies expressed the New Deal premise that the Depression was caused by excessive competition that first reduced prices and wages and then reduced employment and consumer demand. In a forthcoming paper, Ohanian argues that "much of the depth of the Depression" is explained by Hoover's policy -- a precursor of the New Deal mentality -- of pressuring businesses to keep nominal wages fixed.

Furthermore, Hoover's 1932 increase in the top income tax rate, from 25 percent to 63 percent, was unhelpful. And FDR's hyperkinetic New Deal created uncertainties that paralyzed private-sector decision making. Which sounds familiar.

Bear Stearns? Broker a merger. Lehman Brothers? Death sentence. The $700 billion is for cleaning up toxic assets? Maybe not. Writes Russell Roberts of George Mason University:

"By acting without rhyme or reason, politicians have destroyed the rules of the game. There is no reason to invest, no reason to take risk, no reason to be prudent, no reason to look for buyers if your firm is failing. Everything is up in the air and as a result, the only prudent policy is to wait and see what the government will do next. The frenetic efforts of FDR had the same impact: Net investment was negative through much of the 1930s."

Barack Obama says that the next stimulus should deliver a "jolt." His adviser Austan Goolsbee says that it must be big enough to "startle the thing into submission." Their theory is that the crisis is largely psychological, requiring shock treatment. But shocks from government have been plentiful.

Unfortunately, one thing government can do quickly and efficiently -- distribute checks -- could fail to stimulate because Americans might do with the money what they have been rightly criticized for not doing nearly enough: Save it. Because individual consumption is 70 percent of economic activity, St. Augustine's prayer ("Give me chastity and continence, but not yet") is echoed today: Make Americans thrifty but not now.

Obama's "rescue plan for the middle class" includes a tax credit for businesses "for each new employee they hire" in America over the next two years. The assumption is that businesses will create jobs that would not have been created without the subsidy. If so, the subsidy will suffuse the economy with inefficiencies -- labor costs not justified by value added.

Here we go again? A new New Deal would vindicate pessimists who say that history is not one damn thing after another, it is the same damn thing over and over.

georgewill@washpost.com

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Eight Weeks of Financial Turmoil

September 27, 2008

Eight Weeks of Financial Turmoil

Multimedia graphic with sound, photos, and video



Monday, September 22, 2008

The Rage of the Previously Rich


A Lehman trader copes with the sudden onset of income shrinkage.

New York Magazine
By Gabriel Sherman Published Sep 21, 2008

The ’97 Barbaresco was not supposed to be opened for this. Stashed under a desk on the third floor of Lehman Brothers’ Seventh Avenue headquarters, the bottle awaited an appropriate victory. Like food, wine pairs well with vast sums of money.

But on Friday, September 12, as Lehman’s stock flatlined at $3.65 per share, the Trader knew it was time to uncork the Santo Stefano. He was in his late thirties, at the prime of his earning potential, a standout in one of Lehman’s profitable trading divisions. When the stock price had fallen below $20 a share in July, the Trader knew things were bad but took solace in the prospect of one more bonus cycle. Things are bad; things will be bad for a while. We’ll hunker down and survive, he had thought then.

But the fact that the Trader’s desk met its targets in August meant nothing at Lehman, where cascading losses from a few epic bets on commercial real estate triggered a firmwide meltdown. As one recently laid-off Lehman staffer said, in characteristic Wall Street vernacular, “These assholes on another floor completely dropped our pants.”

Around 5:30 p.m. on Friday, as the reality sank in, the Trader assembled his staff. With the weekend looming, this would likely be the last time they would gather at Lehman as a team. The eight colleagues, friends really, stood around glowing Bloomberg terminals as the $700 Barbaresco was poured into paper cups. A crowd formed. Champagne was brought out. What they didn’t know was that upstairs, Lehman lawyers and bankers were negotiating with counterparts at Barclays, Bank of America, and the Fed, piecing together a deal. After a few minutes, the Trader was called over to open the books for the counterparties. He brushed his teeth, scrubbing the scent of wine from his breath. Leaving work at nine that evening, the Trader knew that Lehman Brothers, as he’d known it, was at an end. The culture would change, inevitably. But at that moment, he couldn’t conceive of the firm’s actually going bankrupt.

The Trader had come to Lehman only a year ago, after being recruited from a rival firm. He’d studied physics as a grad student, then come to Wall Street as the tech bubble and the aggressive gentrification of the Giuliani years remade Manhattan into a banker’s playground, a place where a $2 million salary could seem like the norm.

Like many on Wall Street, the Trader’s career was moving along briskly. By 2006, he had settled into a new $2 million house in Connecticut with a pool, and kept a pied-à-terre in Manhattan. With two young children, he had private-school tuition to cover. He had recently completed a home renovation, and now there was talk of a new porch with a built-in stainless-steel barbecue. The Trader estimated that he was two years from making enough money to retire and never have to work again.

But by Saturday, September 13, Lehman Brothers teetered on the precipice of bankruptcy after Barclays and Bank of America walked away from a deal. The Trader was certain of little, except that he was a lot poorer. The unvested stock from his previous year’s bonus, once worth $3 million, was now reduced to a scant $6,000. And on Wall Street, self-worth and net worth can amount to the same thing. “The hardest thing in my mind is to have your compensation cut,” a veteran Wall Street executive says. “It’s almost like you’re a bad person.”

At a dinner party in Darien that evening, the conversation was a mix of denial and panic. An executive from UBS lamented what the Lehman meltdown would mean for Wall Street. “This is going to be a disaster,” the executive said. The executive’s wife nervously tried to steer the topic toward lighter subjects. She kept talking about summer vacation. And then she turned to the Trader and asked, “What do you do?”

The collapse of the world’s most powerful wealth-creating engine required everyone to take stock of their financials. One Lehman executive in Rye Brook, fretting about paying off a Hamptons summer house and a ski chalet in Vermont, panicked on Monday morning and laid off her nanny, who had been with the Westchester family for nine years. “The nanny called me crying,” says Marla Sanders, who runs Advance Nannies and staffs Lehman homes. “One of the children she had brought home from the hospital.” Sanders knows more cuts for her clients are on the way. “They’re going to have to sell homes. The question is, will the homes sell? They’re cutting some of the children’s activities out, dance class, acting class. Are they going to have flowers delivered every day to their homes? I don’t think so!”

Of course, this is one of the meanings of moral hazard, that term that’s been used so much in recent months. At this level, it’s not a tragedy so much as the end of a specific vision of the American good life, one that’s helped to define the city and its suburbs for more than a decade.

Pain was relative. “One of my managers, he’s a guy who is a little bit older,” one low-level Lehman staffer said on September 16. “He has an $800,000 mortgage, a wife who can’t work, and two kids. That gives you a little perspective.”

On Friday, September 12, the Wall Street Journal reported that Lehman’s former president, Joe Gregory, who was demoted along with former CFO Erin Callan in a management shake-up in June, was listing his Bridgehampton house on Surfside Drive for $32.5 million. The collapse of Lehman’s stock is a blow to Gregory’s lifestyle. He reportedly used to travel by helicopter to midtown from his $3.5 million mansion in Huntington, which was recently renovated, according to a Sotheby’s broker. According to one source, Gregory’s financial adviser was in negotiations with Lehman’s attorneys at Simpson Thacher & Bartlett, working to avert his filing for bankruptcy, after he borrowed money against his Lehman stock to pay for the renovation. “He owes a lot of money for it. They called the margin loan” late last week, the source said. (Gregory and attorneys didn’t return calls for comment.)

And some around the city met the crisis with a kind of glee. “What do you think just happened to the lifestyles of all the guys who girls want to meet?” one hedge-fund analyst wondered. “This is the best time ever to maintain ten girlfriends. You could be an African tribal leader!”

“Wall Street is like the auto industry in the seventies, which had a product that exploded on impact.”

In the days after the fall of Lehman, Craigslist attracted several posts from people who said they were Lehman employees, becoming a kind of clearinghouse for the detritus of the Wall Street male ego. On September 17, one banker put his East 91st Street apartment up for rent and with it, his bachelorhood. (“I can no longer afford my apartment seeing as Lehman Brothers felt the need to steal my money and my soul … I am moving in with my girlfriend.”) Another headline read, “Should I leave my fiancé? … I guess I already know the answer. My boyfriend … rather fiancé, is/was employed by Lehman Brothers,” the posting stated. “In less than a week we went from being millionaires to just having a couple of 100K … I suppose this means it’s over. I am who I am. I personally blame all this on [Lehman CEO] Dick Fuld. I blame him for ruining my happiness.”

Riding the Metro-North into Grand Central on Monday morning, September 15, the Trader stood out in his jeans and T-shirt among the rows of suits. A few passengers on the early-morning banker train were similarly dressed, and it was clear to all the commuters to what office guys in jeans, but reading the Journal, were headed.

Like Bear Stearns, Lehman’s culture was built on fierce loyalty to the firm. Senior staffers were granted bonuses that would be paid with 50 percent or more in Lehman stock, which they couldn’t unload for five years. In July, Dick Fuld approved a move to guarantee staffers a part of their bonuses midyear. But the plan backfired when staffers learned that they’d be assured only 20 percent of their previous year’s bonus and would receive restricted stock at $21 per share (“Great, so you basically shorted my own compensation,” one Lehman staffer groused).

At the Seventh Avenue headquarters, the Trader watched it all unfold like a nightmare. Managers instructed the staff not to trade. The company blocked outgoing e-mails with attachments. A colleague frantically called human resources to find out if his wife, who was due to give birth any day now, would be covered by Lehman’s benefits plan. With no instructions from the top, the Trader took his colleagues down to a lunch at Pastis. The next day at around 3:30 in the afternoon, Bart McDade, Lehman’s president and COO, roamed the trading floor with Barclays president Robert Diamond, who traveled from London to inspect his new prize. The men told staffers they had agreed to a deal for Barclays to acquire Lehman. They had set aside a bonus pool for this year, and it would be paid 75 percent in cash.

Even if the Barclays deal would save many jobs, staffers were outraged at Fuld. Since Friday, September 12, Fuld’s domineering presence had all but disappeared from Lehman’s headquarters, and he was assigned a security detail. “They are sneaking him in and out of this place,” a senior Lehman staffer said. “They wouldn’t let him near this deal. It was for his own safety.” Asked what Fuld could do at this point to make it up to his company, the Trader said, “Stand naked in Times Square while I Tase you.”

Lehman staffers in London felt particularly stung. Barclays acquisition includes only Lehman’s New York operations, meaning that the employees at Canary Wharf are going to be jettisoned. On the morning of September 17, one London managing director sent a terse e-mail to Lehman’s president, and cc’d the entire London office. The message—subject line: “To Tom, Michael and Bart: The Email that Never Came”—complained bitterly that New York never expressed gratitude for London’s efforts even while they were thrown under the bus.

Then, just before 10 p.m. on September 16, Fuld finally sent a memo to the staff. “I know that this has been very painful on all of you both personally and financially,” he wrote. “For this, I feel horrible.”

It was the apology the staffers had sought for days.

On September 17, word filtered through the office that Barclays would keep people on for only several months as they figured out whom they wanted to retain. One staffer remarked that he was glad he had decided not to enroll his kid in private school. “It’s sinking in how much money people have and what they can afford going forward,” the Trader said.

On Saturday, September 13, the Trader took his 8-year-old son to his first Yankees game, against Tampa Bay. “My 8-year-old is asking me questions about the economy. And I’m thinking, You should really think about baseball,” the Trader said.

The Trader paid for great seats. They sat fieldside in the languid summer afternoon, six rows from the Yankees dugout. When the Yankees took the field, the Trader’s son erupted in cheers.

“Jeter! Jeter! Jeter!” he yelled, but the players jogged out to the field, with scarcely a glance toward the stands.

“Daddy, why doesn’t he answer?” the son asked.

And suddenly, the Trader boiled with anger. He had done his part, put in the sixteen-hour days to buy his kid the best seats in the stadium. Lehman, and the career he signed up for, was disappearing in front of his eyes. Yet the Yankees were losing, and Derek Jeter was still going to take home his $21 million, and he couldn’t even bother to show some gratitude. It was a fantasy world, out of touch.

“Those guys have the easiest job,” the Trader thought, “when it’s clear they don’t care. Fuck, in my next life I want to be a baseball player.”