Friday, October 30, 2009

Why Are Markets Crash Prone?

John Cassidy answers deftly in the New Yorker. He is answer takes more of a behavioral economics approach and not a "this guy defrauded that guy" approach. Also has a nice sprinkling of game theory in the middle.

When the subprime-mortgage market faltered, the business model of giving loans to all comers no longer made sense. Nobody wanted mortgage-backed securities any longer; nobody wanted to buy the underlying mortgages. Some of the Wall Street firms that had financed New Century’s operations, such as Goldman Sachs and Citigroup, made margin calls. Federal investigators began looking into New Century’s accounts, and the company rapidly became one of the first major casualties of the subprime crisis. Then again, New Century’s executives were hardly the only ones who failed to predict the subprime crash; Alan Greenspan and Ben Bernanke didn’t, either. Sharp-dealing companies like New Century may have been reprehensible. But they weren’t simply irrational.

The same logic applies to the decisions made by Wall Street C.E.O.s like Citigroup’s Charles Prince and Merrill Lynch’s Stanley O’Neal. They’ve been roundly denounced for leading their companies into the mortgage business, where they suffered heavy losses. In the midst of a credit bubble, though, somebody running a big financial institution seldom has the option of sitting it out. What boosts a firm’s stock price, and the boss’s standing, is a rapid expansion in revenues and market share. Privately, he may harbor reservations about a particular business line, such as subprime securitization. But, once his peers have entered the field, and are making money, his firm has little choice except to join them. C.E.O.s certainly don’t have much personal incentive to exercise caution. Most of them receive compensation packages loaded with stock options, which reward them for delivering extraordinary growth rather than for maintaining product quality and protecting their firm’s reputation.

Prince’s experience at Citigroup provides an illuminating case study. A corporate lawyer by profession, he had risen to prominence as the legal adviser to Citigroup’s creator, Sandy Weill. After Weill got caught up in Eliot Spitzer’s investigation of Wall Street analysts and resigned, in 2003, Prince took over as C.E.O. He was under pressure to boost Citigroup’s investment-banking division, which was widely perceived to be falling behind its competitors. At the start of 2005, Citigroup’s board reportedly asked Prince and his colleagues to develop a growth strategy for the bank’s bond business. Robert Rubin, the former Treasury Secretary, who served as the chairman of the board’s executive committee, advised Prince that the company could take on more risk. “We could afford to seek more opportunities through intelligent risk-taking,” Rubin later told the Times. “The key word is ‘intelligent.’ ”

Prince could have rejected Rubin’s advice and told the board that he didn’t think it was a good idea for Citigroup to take on more risk, however intelligently it was done. But Citigroup’s stock price hadn’t moved much in five years, and maintaining a cautious approach would have involved forgoing the kind of growth that some of the firm’s rivals—UBS and Bank of America—were already enjoying. To somebody in Prince’s position, the risky choice would have been standing aloof from the subprime craze, not joining the crowd."

AND

"Because financial markets consist of individuals who react to what others are doing, the theories of free-market economics are often less illuminating than the Prisoner’s Dilemma, an analysis of strategic behavior that game theorists associated with the RAND Corporation developed during the early nineteen-fifties. Much of the work done at RAND was initially applied to the logic of nuclear warfare, but it has proved extremely useful in understanding another explosion-prone arena: Wall Street.

Imagine that you and another armed man have been arrested and charged with jointly carrying out a robbery. The two of you are being held and questioned separately, with no means of communicating. You know that, if you both confess, each of you will get ten years in jail, whereas if you both deny the crime you will be charged only with the lesser offense of gun possession, which carries a sentence of just three years in jail. The best scenario for you is if you confess and your partner doesn’t: you’ll be rewarded for your betrayal by being released, and he’ll get a sentence of fifteen years. The worst scenario, accordingly, is if you keep quiet and he confesses.

What should you do? The optimal joint result would require the two of you to keep quiet, so that you both got a light sentence, amounting to a combined six years of jail time. Any other strategy means more collective jail time. But you know that you’re risking the maximum penalty if you keep quiet, because your partner could seize a chance for freedom and betray you. And you know that your partner is bound to be making the same calculation. Hence, the rational strategy, for both of you, is to confess, and serve ten years in jail. In the language of game theory, confessing is a “dominant strategy,” even though it leads to a disastrous outcome.

In a situation like this, what I do affects your welfare; what you do affects mine. The same applies in business. When General Motors cuts its prices or offers interest-free loans, Ford and Chrysler come under pressure to match G.M.’s deals, even if their finances are already stretched. If Merrill Lynch sets up a hedge fund to invest in collateralized debt obligations, or some other shiny new kind of security, Morgan Stanley will feel obliged to launch a similar fund to keep its wealthy clients from defecting. A hedge fund that eschews an overinflated sector can lag behind its rivals, and lose its major clients. So you can go bust by avoiding a bubble. As Charles Prince and others discovered, there’s no good way out of this dilemma. Attempts to act responsibly and achieve a coöperative solution cannot be sustained, because they leave you vulnerable to exploitation by others. If Citigroup had sat out the credit boom while its rivals made huge profits, Prince would probably have been out of a job earlier. The same goes for individual traders at Wall Street firms. If a trader has one bad quarter, perhaps because he refused to participate in a bubble, the results can be career-threatening"

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