Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

Joe Nocera has said his peace with respect to Obama’s proposed overhaul of the financial system. And in doing so, he expressed disappointment with several aspects of the proposal. In particular, he is displeased that the proposal “doesn’t attempt to diminish the use of … bespoke derivatives.” That certainly sounds ominous. But it’s also not true.

The proposal calls for increased capital charges on bespoke trades, which is a strong incentive away from them. But frankly, I’m sick of writing about the proposal. So rather than regurgitate and parse the administration’s plans for financial regulation, I’d like to take a moment to get familiar with some of the key concepts at play in the proposal, so that you can read it and come to your own conclusions. The two core areas I focus on here are derivatives and regulatory capital. With an understanding of these two areas, you should be able to get a grasp on what the administration is thinking and what effects the proposal will have in practice.

OTC Derivatives

I write about OTC derivatives pretty often, so rather than reinvent the wheel, I’ll shamelessly reuse a piece of introductory text I have handy:

A derivative is a contract that derives its value by reference to “something else.” That something else can be pretty much anything that can be objectively observed and measured. That said, when people talk about derivatives, the “something else” is usually an index, rate, or security. For example, an option to purchase common stock is a fairly well-known and ubiquitous derivative. So are futures for commodities such as pork belly and oil. However, these are not the kind of derivatives that [the proposal] is talking about. [The proposal] is talking about OTC derivatives, or “over the counter” derivatives. This category of derivatives includes the much maligned “credit default swap” market, as well as other larger but apparently less notorious markets, such as the interest rate and foreign exchange derivatives markets. The key defining characteristic of an OTC derivative is that it is entered into directly between the parties. This is in contrast to exchange-traded derivatives, such as options to purchase common stock. Highly bespoke OTC derivatives are often negotiated at length between the parties and involve a great deal of collaboration between bankers, lawyers, and other consultants. For other, more standardized OTC contracts, commonly referred to as “plain vanilla trades”, contracts can be entered into on a much more rapid and informal basis, e.g., via email.

For the limited purpose of wrapping your head around the world of derivatives, think of all derivatives as being in one of three broad categories: (1) exchange-traded derivatives (e.g., options on common stock and futures on pork belly); (2) standardized OTC contracts (e.g., your basic credit default swap); and (3) bespoke OTC contracts (transaction specific, often more complex instruments).

In fairness to Nocera, he’s not the only one weary of the third category of bespoke derivatives. But that doesn’t make his fears justified. So why do firms use custom made derivatives instead of just settling for an exchange traded derivative or a standardized swap? Despite uninformed opinions to the contrary, there are a lot of legitimate reasons for using custom derivatives. The most basic reason is what’s known as basis risk. The term refers to the risk that the difference between two rates will change. In the context of OTC derivatives, it usually refers to the risk that a hedge is imperfect. For example, a commodity user, like an airline, would like to lock in the price of jet fuel delivered to a terminal near an airport in northern California. However, the only exchange traded futures contracts available track the price of delivery to the Gulf Coast.  While we would expect these two rates – the price of delivery to CA and the price of delivery to the Gulf Coast – to be correlated, there are all kinds of events, e.g., supply disruptions, that can affect one price without affecting the other. As such, using an exchange traded future would expose the airline to basis risk. By using a customized product, the airline can more perfectly hedge its exposure to the price of local fuel.

At this point, most of the bozo pundits would say, “just move all the customized trades onto an exchange!” That’s a fine idea, but it has the unfortunate feature of being impossible. In order to have an exchange, you need a lot of liquidity, or simply put, a lot of people trading perfectly fungible assets. The reason you need perfectly fungible assets is that it allows buyers and sellers to be matched on a rapid basis without any communication between them.  Without a lot of people trading perfectly fungible assets, you don’t have a market where you can easily buy a new position or sell your current position, and therefore, you cannot have an exchange. Because bespoke derivatives are often one-off deals, hedging extremely specific risks, there is no market where they can be traded, for the simple reason that they are all unique and only useful to the parties to the original transaction. And so, bespoke derivatives are useful products that cannot always be substituted with exchange traded or standardized OTC products.

What Is Regulatory Capital?

There’s a lot of talk about regulatory capital in Obama’s proposal. So what is regulatory capital? In short, it has to do with how banks finance their operations. Banks are businesses. And like all businesses, they have investors that contribute money to the business. In the parlance of banking regulation, the money that investors contribute is called capital.  This capital can come in various forms, despite the fact that it’s all cash. The form of the capital is determined by what the investor expects in return for his capital contribution. For example, equity capital comes from investors who expect to share in the profits of the bank. That is, after all of the bank’s expenses and debts are paid, the equity investors get their share of what, if anything, is left over. Capital could also come in the form of debt. The bank’s debt investors, commonly referred to as creditors, expect regular payments in return for their investment, regardless of whether or not the bank generates a profit. As such, they get paid before any of the equity investors get paid. Because of this, we say that debt is higher in the capital structure of a bank than equity. But of course, life is a lot more complicated than simple debt and equity. And so, banks make use of a broad range of financing that falls in different places along a continuum from pure senior debt (the top of the capital structure) to pure subordinated equity. As money gets generated by the bank’s activities, that money gets pushed down the bank’s capital structure, paying investors off in order of seniority.

In the magical world of academia, capital structure isn’t supposed to matter much. But as Michael Milken reminds us, in the real world, capital structure matters, a lot. Firms that finance their activities with a lot of debt will have high fixed obligations, since creditors don’t care if you make a profit or not. They invested on terms that assured them payment, come hell or high water. And while they might not be as intimidating as the Goodfellas, creditors have a lot of power over firms that fail to pay their debts. These powers range from seizing assets pledged as collateral to forcing bankruptcy upon the firm. Obviously, these kinds of events are disruptive to a firm’s business activities. And as this crisis has taught us, the business activities of banks are pretty important. Fully aware of this, the world developed what are known as regulatory capital requirements. What these requirements do is place restrictions on the capital structure of banks based on the riskiness of the bank’s activities. As you would expect, the rules that implement these restrictions are very complicated. But the general idea is fairly intuitive: as the riskiness of the bank’s activities increases, the bulk of the bank’s financing should move down the capital structure, towards equity. This makes sense, since a bank that is running a high risk operation shouldn’t be promising too many people regular income, since by definition, their cash flows are unstable. As such, a high risk bank should make greater use of equity, since equity investors only expect their share of the profits, if and when they appear.

Most of the developed world has adopted some version of the bank capital regulations known as the Basel Accords, written by the Bank For International Settlements. Under the Basel rules, assets are assigned a weight, which is determined by the asset’s riskiness. “No risk” assets, such as short term U.S. Treasuries, are assigned a weight of 0%. High risk assets can have weights over 100%. The rules then look to the capital of the bank and break it up into three Tiers: Tier 1, Tier 2, and Tier 3. Tier 1 is comprised of pure equity and retained earnings, the absolute bottom of the capital structure; Tier 2 is comprised of financing that’s almost equity, or just above Tier 1 in the capital structure; and Tier 3 is comprised of short term subordinated debt, or the lowest part of the capital structure that can be fairly characterized as debt. Anything above Tier 3 doesn’t count as capital for the purposes of the rules.

When a bank buys an asset, they are generally required to assign a capital charge to that asset equal to 8% of the value of the asset multiplied by its risk weight. Half of the capital they set aside must come from Tier 1. So for a $100 loan with a risk weight of 50%, the bank that issued or bought the loan would need to set aside 8% x 50% x $100 = 8% x $50 = $4 worth of regulatory capital, at least half of which must come from Tier 1.

So regulatory capital requirements are a matching game between a firm’s assets and its capital structure. The more capital a firm has to set aside to purchase an asset, the fewer assets it can purchase. This means that heightened regulatory capital requirements will restrict a firm’s ability to generate returns on its capital. Well aware of this, Obama’s proposal uses regulatory capital as a tool to push firms away from certain practices. For example, as mentioned above, the proposal calls for increasing the capital charge for bespoke trades. It also threatens firms that are “too big to fail” with the spectre of overall heightened capital requirements. While Nocera thinks this is an empty threat, not everyone is so confident. But in any case, go read it yourself, at least the summary, and come to your own conclusions.

Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

If free markets never fail, there’s no inherent need for government intervention, though we might object to the resultant wealth distribution on moralistic grounds. But if markets do occasionally fail, then it’s possible that government intervention could be used to realign incentives, and “nudge” the market to a higher order equilibrium.

View From An Ivory Tower

Neoclassical economists believe that only a few types of market failures are possible, no matter how often reality disagrees. In particular, neoclassical economists reject the idea that coordination failures can occur. A coordination failure can be roughly described as a scenario where each individual in a group acts in a way that maximizes its own expected outcome, but by doing so fails to maximize the expected outcome of the group. You might ask, how is it possible for everyone to do their best and still reach an outcome that is inferior to some other outcome? The answer is: a failure to coordinate. That is, just because everyone does their best individually does not imply that the group as a whole will do its best collectively. This is a very simple concept with a lot of intuitive appeal. Yet, neoclassical economists reject coordination failures as a possibility, since they argue that if it is profitable for coordination to occur, it will. That also has a lot of intuitive appeal, which is why that theory stuck around for so long. But neoclassical theory doesn’t describe the world we live in, which is filled with crooks, liars, and idiots. It describes an idealized world where people can overcome their short-term expectations and desires, collaborating whenever it’s profitable, inadvertently advancing the greater, long-term common good.

About As Far As I Can Throw You

There are a variety of real world scenarios where a failure to coordinate can occur. The most basic example is when the parties simply don’t trust each other. For example, I would rather pay you to paint my house than paint it myself; and you would rather be paid cash for painting my house than sit around all day. But what I would prefer most of all is to have my house painted for free; and what you would prefer most of all is to get paid for doing nothing. That said, both of us could be better off than we currently are if I paid you to paint my house. However, one of us has to take the risk that the other won’t perform. That is, I pay you today and you take the money and run; or you paint my house today and I tell you to piss off when you’re done. If either of us expects that the other will not perform, we will not coordinate.

Free market zealots would argue that reputation alone is sufficient to solve this problem. That is, if either of us fails to perform, we will have a bad reputation, and in the future others will not trust us. That would probably work in a tiny village where everyone knows everyone else, travel is infrequent, and therefore reputations are easy to track. But in the developed world, it’s impractical and creates a fantastic opportunity for those willing to move around a lot pretending to be a painter. Moreover, even if it were practical, any system based on reputation alone would favor incumbents and make it very difficult for new entrants to compete, since no one wants to be the first to find out that their painter is actually a career swindler. So what’s the solution? Enforceable contracts. That is, the government, which has all kinds of power over its citizens, can force you to perform under your agreements. In this respect, the existence of government solves a basic coordination problem by supplanting bilateral trust. But this mechanism doesn’t completely eliminate the issue of trust, it just substitutes the mutual trust of the parties with their trust in the government. That is, I will trust that my contract is valid and enforceable insofar as I believe in the government’s ability and willingness to enforce it. This whole government substitution process can be viewed as a variation on the reputation game. But in the context of governments enforcing contracts, keeping track of reputation becomes practical, since it’s fairly easy to keep track of the enforcement records of a handful of governments. As such, enforcing contracts is, in my opinion, a necessary form of government intervention into otherwise free markets.

Better Than Worse

I am more than willing to concede that the market, when left to its own devices, could arrive at an equilibrium that is suboptimal. That is, the aggregate effect of market participants making (hopefully) rational decisions does not necessarily produce the best possible outcome. Again, neoclassical economists reject this since they view price as the only element required to properly coordinate market participants. But as I’ve argued in the past, and as recent events suggest, prices are also affected by coordination failures. So what’s the solution? Here’s the classic law school answer: it depends.

There are some obvious examples where the disparate bargaining power and levels of sophistication between parties warrant regulation to prevent unsophisticated parties from getting screwed or even physically injured by extremely sophisticated parties, even if the former are not technically mislead. That said, when sophisticated parties are dealing with other sophisticated parties, the case for regulation is much weaker. And it’s not because sophisticated parties know everything. It’s because they probably know more than the government, and have a lot more to lose, since governments have control over entities which they do not own (insert joke here), and therefore they can act upon those entities without bearing any direct financial consequences that spring from their actions. Moreover, there’s no reason to think that regulators and legislators aren’t subject to the same incentive quagmires that occur in markets.

Even if regulation is well intentioned, the risks of getting regulation wrong are enormous. Literal compliance with the letter of the law allows market participants to wash their hands of any other actions, and creates a false sense of security in their counterparties. For example, the popular wisdom seems to be that this crisis was caused in large part by the deregulation of the financial sector that occurred under the Clinton administration. That argument has one thing going for it that is impossible to refute: the crisis occurred after the Clinton administration left office. But this position ignores the possibility that this crisis wasn’t the product of an absence of regulation, but rather the omnipresence of poor regulation. For all the talk of systemic risk, very little emphasis is being placed on the fact that the regulatory regime in place prior to the crisis – and still in place now – gave rating agencies systemic influence. Because ratings were woven into almost every aspect of the regulatory regime, particularly those that determined whether a bank has adequate capital, any errors in those ratings would have systemic consequences. And it seems that they did. The Atlantic’s own Dr. Manhattan has already done a fine job exploring that subject, so I’ll spare the world my opinions on the matter.

So what’s the take-away? It depends. As a general matter, I’m opposed to the idea of governments having an active role in markets, particularly setting prices. But then again, if it weren’t for the FED, I’d be hunting deer on Park Avenue instead of writing this article. So like I said, it depends.

Also published on Cluster Stock

Regulators have been largely supportive of the credit default swap market’s efforts to move all standard CDS (a.k.a. “vanilla” CDS) contracts onto a central counterparty (CCP). Within a relatively short amount of time, the CDS market garnered the support of both the SEC and the Federal Reserve, setup shop, and executed CDS transactions totaling $71 billion in notional amount on ICE Trust LLC (ICE), the first of what could be a handful of CCPs. Given that the CDS market is still serving time on the pillory, this kind regulatory largess seems to imply that a CCP must undoubtedly be a good thing. However, not everyone is convinced. In a recent paper, Darrell Duffie and Haoxiang Zhu of Standford University described the state of affairs with and without a CCP in mathematical terms, proposed a measure of efficiency which they use as a proxy for counterparty risk, applied this measure to each state of affairs, and came to conclusions that are surprising, but not counterintuitive once you take a moment to consider the trade-offs between a distributed dealer system and a CCP.

There are two central points in their paper: (1) the benefits of having a CCP compared to not having a CCP (the distributed dealer system) is a function of the number of dealers (i.e., the more dealers, the more the system benefits from having a CCP) and that the current number of CDS dealers might be too small to realize any benefits from a CCP; and (2) even if having a single CCP is more efficient than not having one, having more than one CCP is never more efficient than having none at all. The assumption underlying these two points is that having a CCP as opposed to not having a CCP is in essence a choice between (i) multilateral netting across a single asset class and (ii) bilateral netting across multiple asset classes. After a bit of back and forth with Duffie, I agree that this is the case, but only in the short term. That is, there is nothing about a CCP that precludes netting across asset classes, even if the current model doesn’t facilitate it. I also disagree with the two central conclusions, mostly due to shortcomings of the model that the authors acknowledge in their paper. Specifically, they acknowledge that their model doesn’t deal with so called “knock-on effects,” or simply put, how one dealer default can lead to another. I also disagree with how Duffie and Zhu measure the benefits of netting, but we’ll spare our brains the heavy lifting and focus on the more practical issues. In this article, I’ll focus on explaining why a CCP does not preclude netting across asset classes. In a follow up article, I’ll explain how a CCP mitigates counterparty risk by facilitating trade compression.

What Is A Central Counterparty?

Rather than provide a one line, academic definition, I’ll proceed gradually, and by way of example. For starters, a CCP is not an exchange. Even with a CCP, inter-dealer trades will still be entered into between dealers, and price discovery will still take place across dealers. That is, dealers will still trade with each other, at least initially. After two dealers enter into a CDS trade, they will transfer, or “novate” their positions to the CCP. For example, in the prototypical CCP transaction, if Dealer A sells protection to Dealer B, each dealer would then novate its position to the CCP. After the novation, the state of affairs is such that A sells protection to the CCP and the CCP sells protection to B. When payments are made on the CDS, they get made to the CCP and then passed on to the parties.

At first blush, it might seem like all we’ve done is throw an extraneous and useless 3rd party into the transaction that does little more than operate as a conduit. However, this is not the case. The CCP is a distinct entity that has an interest in its own survival, and since the CCP is now liable to both dealers, it has an interest in being well-capitalized. While individual dealers also have an interest in being well-capitalized, they are unable to determine whether the CDS market as a whole is well-capitalized. And even if they were able to determine whether or not that is the case, each individual dealer has no power to convince others to increase the capital allocated to their positions. By centralizing all of the trade information into one entity and giving that entity control over the levels of collateral that dealers must post, we have created a method through which we can better ensure the adequate capitalization of the entire CDS market. For example, if one dealer is unable to fully collateralize its positions, the CCP can draw on its own capital and the capital of the other dealers to make up for the shortage. Without a CCP, that shortage of collateral would probably trigger events of default, which could “knock-on,” or cascade through the market. But as always, there’s no free lunch, and despite all of this upside, we have also concentrated the risk of counterparty failure.

Payment Netting And Payment Settlement

As Duffie and Zhu note, dealers net their payments and collateral across different types of vanilla swaps. So, for example, if Dealer A owed Dealer B $5 under a vanilla interest rate swap on some payment date, while Dealer B owed Dealer A $3 under a vanilla CDS, A would simply pay B $2. This type of bilateral netting across asset classes reduces the risk that dealers will default when compared to not having such netting because it reduces the total amount of cash that is needed to meet payment obligations. Duffie and Zhu argue that because CCPs segregate vanilla CDS trades from all other types of vanilla swaps, we miss the opportunity to net across asset classes. This is not necessarily the case.

First, we need to distinguish between the entities that are liable for the trades (i.e., the dealers and the CCP) and the entities that actually process the trade information and payments. In the case of ICE, trade information is processed by DTCC. After that trade information gets processed, DTCC submits payment instructions to CLS Bank, which actually handles the payments. So, the CCP itself is not able to net payments across various asset classes, since it only handles CDS trades and moreover doesn’t actually settle the payments. However, DTCC will submit payment instructions to a settlement agent, CLS Bank, that actually handles the cash payments. CLS Bank could also receive payment instructions for other asset classes from the dealers (i.e., payment instructions on interest rate swaps, etc.) and net the payment instructions from the DTCC against the payment instructions from the dealers’ other activities. In fact, CLS Bank is also a leading settlement agent in the FX market.

In short, netting CDS contracts first does not preclude you from netting against other swaps later, especially since trading and settlement are handled by distinct entities.

Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

John Authers’ recent interview with University of Chicago professor Richard Thaler is a fine example of what I hope are broader trends in economic thought. To some, it might seem like just another interview. But Authers undoubtedly recognizes its significance. Thaler is a professor at the University of Chicago, which is the birth place of the Efficient Market Hypothesis, and Authers is a well-respected columnist for the Financial Times, which is arguably the voice of the free market in the press. And yet, there they are, casting doubt upon the very theories underpinning a generation of thought that have made the University of Chicago the epicenter of free market ideology. In the language of soda-pop-economics, this interview is a “black swan.”

It seems Authers is leaning ever closer towards a world view informed by behavioral economics. While I haven’t done any empirical research into Authers’ work, I do read his column, The Short View, religiously (personally, I recommend you do the same). And as the recent downturn developed, I noticed several articles that suggest he’s come to question at least some of the assumptions underlying the old free market dogmas, particularly the Efficient Market Hypothesis. In my opinion, this is a welcomed development. And I sincerely hope it is part of a broader trend away from grandiose theories about how humans make decisions and towards precise theories which are supported by real-world observations.

Those that have toiled through my writing in the past know that I am a big fan of free markets. Yet, I am not a big fan of the EMH. And in general, I find a lot of economic theory, particularly macroeconomic theory, to be little more than hand-waving. There’s an almost priestly air about it that makes me deeply suspicious of its validity. In gentler terms, Economics lacks a rigorous epistemological theory. That is, economists have no robust system of determining which statements about economics are true, and which are not. This is in stark contrast to say, mathematics. A statement about an alleged mathematical truth is verifiable (putting Gödel and Turing aside for the moment). If you tell me that you have discovered a new mathematical truth, you can sit down and in a finite number of words, provide a logical path from assumptions we both agree are true to your new found conclusions that I must accept as true, else I reject either the assumptions or logic itself. Now, I understand that economics can never be a purely deductive sport, since it is complicated by the nuance and uncertainty of, well, reality. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do better than simply assuming away all of human ridiculousness.

The economics that assumes rational behavior on the part of humanity is, in my opinion, dead. It is simply at odds with everyday experience. It’s arguable that the desire for wealth is itself an inherently irrational impulse for most of the developed world, given that our needs would likely be satisfied on public assistance. That said, those who are able to control their behavior and act rationally do a much better job at generating and accumulating wealth. But once they get the money, they go and do something absurd with it, like buy a fleet of planes. So while reason and deferred consumption might be the means by which we accumulate wealth, the end goal of accumulating wealth seems to be driven by a need to express dominance, or at least an antisocial impulse to be free of society’s constraints. This view finds support in popular culture, which often equates wealth with conspicuous consumption, sexuality, and control. All of this suggests that somewhere buried under all of those pinstripes is a real brute.

If I am correct, and there is a sea change taking place in how economists view human behavior and the markets humans create, then there may be a lot of quackery in the short term. That is, during the intellectual power vacuum that will follow the demise of the old Chicago School, a few crackpots might temporarily seize power as we trace our way from the four humors to phlogiston. But when we finally get our Lavoisier, this time let’s remember to keep his head on, despite our penchant for the irrational.

Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

Felix Salmon and I are usually on the same side of the jury box when it comes to the trial of credit default swaps. However, it appears we have reached an impasse concerning creditor control rights in the context of restructurings and bankruptcies. While that sounds like an awfully narrow issue to quibble about, the policy implications of this seemingly obscure issue are far reaching and call into question both the orderly functioning of the debt markets and the soundness of the current bankruptcy regime.

Let’s begin by outlining the issue at hand. In my previous article, I wrote:

Suppose that ABC Co. is on the verge of bankruptcy, but wants to avoid bankruptcy by restructuring its debt (renegotiating interest rates, maturity, etc.) with its bondholders. Further, assume that bondholder B has fully hedged his ABC bonds using CDS, or over-hedged to the point where B would profit from ABC’s bankruptcy. The problem seems obvious: B either doesn’t care if ABC does or actually wants ABC to file for bankruptcy, and so he will do anything he can to stop ABC from restructuring and force ABC into ruin.

In fairness to Felix, here’s his added qualification of the issue from his response to my article:

The problem is a bit more subtle than that, and is simply that bondholders who have bought CDS protection have much less incentive to participate in restructuring negotiations.

The key to understanding why we shouldn’t expect this change in incentives to lead to any material change in the restructuring process is rooted in the distinction between incentive to act and power to act. Clearly, anyone who expects to profit more from option A than B will choose A given the chance. And so, a bondholder who expects to receive a larger payout from CDS than from a restructuring will choose the CDS payout given the chance. But does that bondholder have any power to bring this result about? As a general matter, probably not.

One Is the Loneliest Number

Restructurings generally take place across the entire capital structure of firm. A firm could have multiple issuances of bonds, loans, and may even have other hybrid debt-equity financing. Each class of creditors has holders with certain control rights. While this complicates the restructuring efforts for the firm, since the firm will have to coordinate with various classes of creditors which may have competing incentives, it also mitigates the influence that any individual creditor/creditor-class can exert on the restructuring process. In addition, it usually means that the firm will require different thresholds of creditor approval from each class. For example, ABC concludes for a given restructuring plan that it needs the approval of 75% of class A holders, 60% of class B holders, etc. The actual threshold will be determined in large part by two main drivers: (i) the agreements that determine the rights of each creditor class (ii) and the number of on-board creditors needed to make the deal economically feasible.

So, even acknowledging the clear incentive on the part of those who stand to gain more from a bankruptcy than a restructuring, their impact on the success of the restructuring will be determined by their ability to affect the firm’s ability to achieve the required thresholds. Thus, their impact will be determined by their ownership stake in the debt. And so, in order for Felix’s argument to be taken as a serious point of concern, we must posit the existence of a class of hedged creditors who stand to gain more in bankruptcy than restructuring that is so large and well coordinated that it is able to obstruct the restructuring efforts of the firm and those creditors that stand to gain more from restructuring than bankruptcy. While not impossible in a nominal sense, this strikes me as a rather fortuitous state of affairs.

Bankruptcy Is Not A Sure Bet

In analyzing the incentives of the participants, Felix assumes that bankruptcy is certain in the case that a restructuring fails. This is not necessarily the case. He wrote:

I might end up with just 45 cents on the dollar — $450,000 — if I agree to the company’s [restructuring] plan. If I just let it go bust, on the other hand, I get $600,000 [from CDS]. And so I have an incentive to opt for the more economically-destructive option.

Every filing for involuntary bankruptcy is reviewed by a judge and can be contested by the debtor. And CDS don’t payout until judgment is entered against the debtor. That means payout under a CDS as it relates to bankruptcy is an uncertain event. That means that your expected payout should be discounted by the probability that the event will occur. So in the example above, the expected payout should be some fraction of $600,000, which could easily bring it below the $450,000 indifference point.  What’s worse, that probability might be impossible to calculate for your average bondholder, which holds its bonds passively and is not likely to have access to up to the minute progress reports on the firm’s financial condition or the restructuring process.

Review by a judge also means that only meritorious claims for bankruptcy will survive. And so, again, we run into the distinction between the incentive to act and the power to act. That is, whether or not someone would like a firm to go into bankruptcy, its ability to cause that to occur is restricted to only those circumstances where it would have been permissible anyway.

Covenant Thy Lender

In the previous article, I suggested that if companies were truly concerned about their creditors stocking up on CDS and fouling up restructurings, they could require the bondholders to promise to not hedge beyond a certain threshold. Felix responded with the following:

And Charles Davi’s idea that companies could somehow constrain their creditors from buying credit protection is even sillier — and probably illegal. The whole point of issuing bonds is that they’re tradable, fungible, and anonymously held. You can’t covenant up bondholders in the same way you can with bank lenders.

First, loans are covenant-heavy for the borrower, not the lender. That’s why companies like issuing bonds in the capital markets, as opposed to taking on loans. Second, without commenting directly on the legality of the scheme (though I’ll note that Felix cites no authority for his claim), it is common place in the MBS market for large, wrapped deals to condition voting rights on bona fide economic exposure. In a wrapped deal, there’s an insurer that guarantees payment on the bonds. If the bonds don’t pay, the insurer does. In these types of deals, the insurer controls all of the bondholders’ voting rights, unless the insurer defaults or goes belly up. So, what bondholders have in these deals are bonds whose voting rights are contingent upon their exposure to risk.

If CDS were truly a problem in the context of restructuring, I would expect companies to issue bonds with voting rights contingent upon maintaining bona fide economic exposure, in a manner analogous to what is done in the MBS market. That said, I wouldn’t expect them to be very popular with bondholders.

Note that this voting restriction would not affect tradability or fungibility at all. The bonds would still be identical and therefore completely fungible.

The “Restructuring” Credit Event

Finally, Felix misstates the requirements for recovering under a restructuring. He wrote:

[A]ny restructuring as drastic as the one I described would count as an event of default — so owners of credit protection would get paid out either way.

That is simply incorrect. First, an “Event of Default” is distinct from a “Credit Event.” A Credit Event is caused by the issuer referenced in the CDS. An Event of Default is caused by one of the two parties to the CDS. The former triggers a payout under the CDS. The latter triggers a payout for damages, in essence for breach of contract. For example, if X and Y enter into a CDS naming ABC Co. as the reference entity, any failure by ABC to make a payment on its bonds would be a “Credit Event” and would trigger a payout, let’s say from X to Y. Any failure by X or Y to make a payment required under their CDS would be an “Event of Default.” The two concepts are completely distinct.

More importantly, Felix misstates the circumstances under which payout occurs. At the outset of a CDS trade, the parties will agree which Credit Events will cause a payout. And indeed, Restructuring is one type of Credit Event. However, only those parties who specifically elect Restructuring as a Credit Event will be entitled to payout upon the occurrence of a restructuring. As such, his analysis of the incentives of participants, which assumes that all trades include Restructuring as a Credit Event, is flawed.

Most importantly, if someone is using CDS to truly hedge against credit risk, they will elect to have Restructuring as a Credit Event. Assuming that this is the case, Felix’s entire argument is out the window, since in that case, the hedged creditor is either indifferent towards or, in the case he’s over-hedged, has an incentive to see the Restructuring succeed.

Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

Megan McArdle asks, “Do We Hate Credit Default Swaps for The Wrong Reasons?” As Megan notes, blaming credit default swaps for all kinds of things is quite fashionable these days, since simply uttering the term makes commentators feel sophisticated. While this is itself a topic worthy of discussion, the more interesting point in Megan’s article concerns how credit default swaps affect the incentives of bondholders in the context of restructurings.

The basic argument is as follows: Suppose that ABC Co. is on the verge of bankruptcy, but wants to avoid bankruptcy by restructuring its debt (renegotiating interest rates, maturity, etc.) with its bondholders. Further, assume that bondholder B has fully hedged his ABC bonds using CDS, or over-hedged to the point where B would profit from ABC’s bankruptcy. The problem seems obvious: B either doesn’t care if ABC does or actually wants ABC to file for bankruptcy, and so he will do anything he can to stop ABC from restructuring and force ABC into ruin.

At first blush, this looks like a serious loophole and a nice way to make some fast cash. Sadly, there are several reasons why this is not the case. The key factor to understanding why we shouldn’t expect this to be a major problem is to appreciate that there is no CDS vending machine. You cannot go to the market and demand credit protection on all of your bonds at your whim. You have to find someone willing to take the exact opposite position that you are taking. That is, if you bet heads they bet tails, by definition. As a result, if everyone knows the next toss is coming up heads, you probably won’t find someone to take the opposite side of that bet.

As discussed above, when you buy protection, you (the protection buyer) buy it from someone else (the protection seller) who will end up paying out if a bankruptcy does indeed occur. These protection sellers are very interested in making money, and so, as the probability of default increases, the price of protection or “spread” widens, making it more expensive to purchase protection. So, as firms get closer to a restructuring or bankruptcy, the cost of buying CDS protection on soon-to-be-junk bonds skyrockets. And not only does the cost of protection go up, liquidity, or your ability to enter into CDS trades, on distressed entities dries up. There’s a fine reason for this too. As the probability of default edges closer to certainty, fewer people are willing to take the other side of the trade. They’re just as convinced as you are that ABC will fail, and they’ll tell you to go sell your bridge to someone else.

This means that in order to take advantage of the restructuring-sabotage-strategy, you have to either (i) guess which companies are doomed for failure well in advance of any real trouble; or (ii) wait for trouble and then lay out a ton of cash and find someone stupid enough to take the obviously wrong side of a bet with you. Neither scenario seems likely to occur often, since (i) requires some fairly remarkable foresight and (ii) requires remarkably stupid counterparties. Moreover, in the case of (i), if you’re truly convinced that ABC is headed for restructuring or bankruptcy, you can buy protection with “Restructuring” as a credit event, which means that if ABC does restructure, you’ll get paid. So, in that case, you don’t have to sabotage anything. You can just sit back and wait for an ABC restructuring or ABC bankruptcy, since you’ll get paid in either case.

Moreover, rather than waste all that time and effort trying to sabotage a restructuring, you can cash in before a bankruptcy ever occurs. As the spread widens beyond the point at which you bought in, your end of the trade is “in the money,” and so it already has intrinsic value that you can realize in a variety of ways. For example, assume that when you bought protection on ABC, the spread was 150 bps. When rumors abound that ABC is entering talks with its bondholders, you can be sure that the spread will be well above 150 bps. Let’s say that the spread widened to 1000 bps. As a protection buyer, your side of the trade has economic value that you can realize by entering into another trade in which you sell protection to someone else. (The CDS market has recently begun changing the way CDS spreads are paid, but we’ll assume we’re operating under the old system where the protection buyer pays the spread in quarterly installments). That is, you sell protection at 1000 bps, pay for protection at 150 bps, and keep the remaining 850 bps for yourself. Sure, you could go for the gold and sabotage a restructuring, but that’s a lot more involved than simply entering into an offsetting trade and pocketing the juice.

In addition to the market based reasons above, there are corporate governance reasons why we shouldn’t coddle these kinds of claims. When a company issues bonds, it includes terms that it and its bondholders must live up to. That is, each bondholder could be asked to swear on a stack of bibles that, “I will not go out and buy CDS protection to the hilt and ruin you.” If a company were truly concerned about the risk of restructuring-sabotage, it would include such terms.

Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

The conventional wisdom is that market regulation goes through booms and busts as the public oscillates through its love-hate relationship with the capitalist ethos. When all is well, high-earning executives are the embodiment of capitalism’s well-oiled wealth distribution machine at work. When all is not well, they are the embodiment of the structural deficiencies inherent in a capitalist society that favor those on top. Moving in sympathy with public sentiment, the regulatory pendulum swings from what some consider under-regulation to what others consider over-regulation, blowing past the inevitable resting point, and pausing only at the extremes.

This phenomenon has a simple, albeit unscientific explanation that would surely disappoint Galileo. During booms, deregulation is less contentious since the public is punch-drunk on the boons of capitalism’s bounty. And so, during booms, politicians can garner campaign funding from and scratch backs with those that have an interest in deregulation, all without taking much of a public flogging. During busts, regulation is politically advantageous since the public will be eager to blame someone for the economic malaise. Those who benefited the most during the preceding boom make easy targets, and so politicians can earn points with the electorate by appearing outraged at the conduct of under-regulated, overpaid executives. My sources tell me that this is to go on, back and forth, in perpetuity, leaving reason and prudence by the wayside.

Getting What You Want

Some might say that this process is inefficient, since the market swings back and forth from poindexter to cowboy, missing opportunities in the former case and betting the farm in the latter. I agree. However, there’s also an argument to be made that this behavior pattern is preference maximizing, at least at the time it occurs. Simply put, during booms, the public is wide-eyed and wants to believe that one day they too will have a CEO haircut and a Learjet. During these times, the public wants to see business at work, unfettered by those pansy leftists who just want to choke the life out of the American Dream. During busts, people are frightened, crave security, stability, and most importantly, someone to blame. The public will quickly abandon its love of well-oiled hairdos and private jets, and demand an accounting for the harm that’s been done. In each case, our elected representatives give us want we want at the time, and so we are satisfied at each juncture. If we add in the assumption that people make decisions based on short-term expectations (some modified version of a preference for present consumption), we have a reasonable theory as to why the phenomenon persists.

Given the opportunity to choose a different overall strategy from a neutral perspective,  something akin to Rawls’ “viel of ignorance,” we would, hopefully, chose a regulatory structure that maximizes our preferences over the long run. But assuming that human decision making is dominated by short term expectations, we will continue to prefer extremes and our representatives will continue to take extreme actions.

And so goes the hapless and headless story of the free world.

Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

With all the accusations of excessive speculation on Wall Street, the media has certainly done its fair share of speculation as to what goes on in the structured finance market. And given all the public outrage, this is information the press should should get straight before they report.

Like every trade, the world of structured finance has developed its own little language describing the things that people in the market do. The first step to understanding that language is building a vocabulary. I would say that most folks in the media have developed to the point where they can identify, point at, and grunt towards objects in the structured finance space. But it’s not just the media that doesn’t understand structured finance. It’s economists, pundits, and perhaps most ironic, financiers!  Even that giant of finance, George Soros has loused up explanations of how credit default swaps work. I’ve called out economists in the past for their mumblings on credit default swaps and the like, and so has Megan McArdle. This is a serious problem because economists, finance giants, and the like command a level of authority that my local TV news anchor does not.

Continuing in the tradition of misinformation, it appears Hernando De Soto has joined the ranks of economists who demonstrate a complete lack of understanding of the subject area. But rather than devote an entire article to bashing an intelligent man, I’ve decided to use the errors in his opinion piece in The Wall Street Journal as the first step in exploring the world of structured finance for those (lucky) folks who have hitherto had little exposure to the area.

Speaking Structured Finance

Speaking “Structured Finance” is not as hard as those around you suggest. Sure, these are not ideas and terms you’ve grown up around. But with a bit of reading and thinking, you’ll be the star of your next wine and cheese night. In this article, I provide topical treatment of a wide range of subjects, but provide links for those brave souls who really want to dive in and impress their cheese-eating friends.

First, Mortgage Backed Securities are not derivatives. To my fellow finance wonks, this may be a trivial observation. But apparently Mr. De Soto was not aware of this distinction:

[A]ggressive financiers have manufactured what the Bank for International Settlements estimates to be $1 quadrillion worth of new derivatives (mortgage-backed securities, collateralized debt obligations, and credit default swaps) that have flooded the market.

A Mortgage Backed Security (MBS) is just that, a security and not a derivative. Investors that own MBSs receive regular income from these securities. What distinguishes them from traditional securities, such as corporate bonds, is that the MBS is backed by a pool of mortgages. That is, investors buy MBSs, and as a result, they have a right to the cash flows produced by that pool of mortgages. As the homeowners whose mortgages are in the pool pay off their mortgages, the money gets funneled to and split up among the MBS holders. In effect, MBSs offer investors the opportunity to finance a portion of each mortgage in the pool and receive a portion of the returns on the pool.  For more on MBS, go here.

Similarly, a Collateralized Debt Obligation (CDO) is not a derivative, but a security. It is similar in concept to an MBS, except the pool is not made up of mortgages, but rather various debt instruments, such as corporate bonds.  The pool underlying the CDO could be made up of loans, in which case it’s referred to as a Collateralized Loan Obligation (CLO). In general, a CDO has a pool of assets that generate cash. As that cash is generated, it gets funneled to and split up among the investors. For more on CDOs, go here and here.

A Credit Default Swap (CDS) is a derivative. So De Soto got 1 out of 3. Well then, what’s a derivative? A “derivative” is a bilateral contract where the value of the contract is derived from some other security, derivative, index, or measurable event. For example, a call option to buy common stock is a fairly well known and common derivative. A call option grants the option holder the right (they can do it) but not the obligation to buy common stock at a predetermined price. The person who sold the option has the obligation (they must do it) and not the right to sell common stock at that predetermined price. So the value of a call option that entitles the holder to buy 100 shares of ABC Co. at $10 per share would depend on the current price of ABC’s stock. If ABC is trading above $10, it would be worth something to the holder, a.k.a., “in the money.” If it’s trading below $10, it would be “out of the money.”

So what are OTC Derivatives? The term “OTC” means “over the counter.” The spirit of the term comes from the fact that OTC Derivatives are not traded on an exchange, but entered into directly between the two parties. “Swaps” are a type of OTC Derivative. And the Interest Rate Swap market is by far the largest corner of the OTC Swap market, despite media protestations as to the size of the CDS market. For more an Interest Rate Swaps, go here.

Despite the fact that the Interest Rate Swap market is an order of magnitude larger than the CDS market, we will succumb to media pressure and skip right past Interest Rate Swaps and onto the most senselessly notorious OTC Derivative of all: the Credit Default Swap.

What Did You Just Agree To?

Under a typical CDS, the protection buyer, B, agrees to make regular payments, usually quarterly, to the protection seller, D. The amount of the quarterly payments, called the swap fee, will be a percentage of the notional amount of their agreement. The term notional amount is simply a label for an amount agreed upon by the parties, the significance of which will become clear as we move on. So what does B get in return for his generosity? That depends on the type of CDS, but for now we will assume that we are dealing with what is called physical delivery. Under physical delivery, if the reference entity defaults, D agrees to (i) accept delivery of certain bonds issued by the reference entity named in the CDS and (ii) pay the notional amount in cash to B. After a default, the agreement terminates and no one makes any more payments. If default never occurs, the agreement terminates on some scheduled date. The reference entity could be any entity that has debt obligations.

Now let’s fill in some concrete facts to make things less abstract. Let’s assume the reference entity is ABC. And let’s assume that the notional amount is $100 million and that the swap fee is at a rate of 8% per annum, or $2,000,000 per quarter. Finally, assume that B and D executed their agreement on January 1, 2009 and that B made its first payment on April 1, 2009.  When July 1, 2009 rolls along, B will make another $2,000,000 payment. This will go on and on for the life of the agreement, unless ABC triggers a default under the CDS. While there are a myriad of ways to trigger a default under a CDS, we consider only the most basic scenario in which a default occurs: ABC fails to make a payment on one of its bonds. If that happens, we switch into D’s obligations under the CDS. As mentioned above, D has to accept delivery of certain bonds issued by ABC (exactly which bonds are acceptable will be determined by the agreement) and in exchange D must pay B $100 million.

Why Would You Do Such A Thing?

To answer that, we must first observe that there are two possibilities for B’s state of affairs before ABC’s default: he either (i) owned ABC issued bonds or (ii) he did not. I know, very Zen. Let’s assume that B owned $100 million worth of ABC’s bonds. If ABC defaults, B gives D his bonds and receives his $100 million in principal (the notional amount). If ABC doesn’t default, B pays $2,000,000 per quarter over the life of the agreement and collects his $100 million in principal from the bonds when the bonds mature. So in either case, B gets his principal. As a result, he has fully hedged his principal. So, for anyone who owns the underlying bond, a CDS will allow them to protect the principal on that bond in exchange for sacrificing some of the yield on that bond.

Now let’s assume that B didn’t own the bond. If ABC defaults, B has to go out and buy $100 million par value of ABC bonds. Because ABC just defaulted, that’s going to cost a lot less than $100 million. Let’s say it costs B $50 million to buy ABC issued bonds with a par value of $100 million. B is going to deliver these bonds to D and receive $100 million. That leaves B with a profit of $50 million. Outstanding. But what if ABC doesn’t default? In that case, B has to pay out $2,000,000 per quarter for the life of the agreement and receives nothing. So, a CDS allows someone who doesn’t own the underlying bond to short the bond.

So why would D enter into a CDS?  Most of the big swap dealers buy and sell protection and pocket the difference. But, D doesn’t have to be a dealer. D could sell protection without entering into an offsetting transaction. In that case, he has gone long on the underlying bond. That is, he has almost the same cash flows as someone who owns the bond. So a CDS allows someone who doesn’t own the bond to gain bond-like credit exposure to the reference entity.

I will follow this article up with another elaborating further on why derivatives are used and why they are your friends.

Also published on the Atlantic Monthly’s Business Channel.

What began as bitterness has burst into a full blown battle between the haves and the havenots. Whatever the level of tension was at the outset of this crisis, public sentiment has turned an entirely new shade of red. But it’s not all bad. I’m sure this period in history will prove to be a petri dish for social scientists and political theorists for decades to come. So maybe we’ll learn something from it.  At a minimum, we can expect SSRN‘s servers to be put to extensive use (if they’re not torched as part of the bourgeois conspiracy).

So what got this whole movement started? Aside from obvious causes like crashing asset prices and mass unemployment, I think we can find additional causes by looking to popular culture, how it shaped the public’s perception of wealth, and how wealth and the wealthy took center stage, just before they all disappeared.

I’m Just Gonna Keep On Dancing

When times were good and most people had enough to get along, the public, especially in the U.S., was more than willing to envy the wealthy. This was the case whether the wealthy individual was a derivatives trader, rapper, actor, or heiress. We had gotten to the point where people were famous simply for being wealthy, whether or not they had contributed anything to the world to generate or even justify their wealth. The mere possession of wealth was fetishized, arguably beyond the level of physical beauty. A famous mantra of the era sums up the ethos nicely: “Money, power, respect – it’s the key to life.”

During this period, which I would define roughly as the last decade, the residents of Manhattan embraced an exaggerated, almost ridiculous adherence to this “bling culture.” To live in Manhattan during this time period was to submit to wealth and celebrity being determinative of your daily experiences. And even the wealthy were peasants here. Real estate prices ballooned to unimaginable levels with 1 bedroom apartments renting at costs that exceeded the average income of U.S. citizens.  Manhattan had become the epicenter of American capitalism, and Wall Street was without question its Holy See.

Although there were some economic rough patches over the last decade, in retrospect it seems like a straight shot to the top, at least when compared to the current situation. The salaries of young professionals skyrocketed to create a well educated, highly paid, stimulus addicted sub-culture. And there was nowhere else that young professionals would care to call home than a four thousand dollar a month closet in one of the many coveted neighborhoods of Manhattan’s downtown area.  With ready access to “bling” that the rest of the hoi polloi could experience only on television, Wall Street’s traders, bankers, and lawyers were the fuel of Manhattan’s economic engine. The feigning of celebrity through wealth was the apparent end. Conspicuous consumption, designer clothes, and late hours were the means. Without being famous, 6 and 7 figure-earning 20-something professionals could “party like rock stars” at the city’s restaurants, bars, and clubs and burn out every ember they had left during the 12 hours a week they weren’t working.

Wall Street’s riches were no secret to the public.  Stories of hedge fund managers receiving compensation in excess of a billion dollars a year were already old-hat by the time the housing crisis got underway. But what reports of wealth never focused on was how the money was made. The story of the rise to wealth was secondary to reports of its present expenditure.  Reality TV shows featuring the wealthy, their homes, their boats, and their conquests offer little insight into how wealth is generated. And it seems the public’s perception of how wealth is generated has suffered as a result. The emphasis on the present status of being wealthy has left gaps in the story, and seems to justify the presumption that the wealthy are undeserving, that the money just appeared. But this should not come as a surprise to anyone. After all, entertainment is a product, subject to competition, and only the most fit products will survive. So ask yourself, what’s more entertaining: a piece on a 28 year-old banker strung out on uppers at 4AM grinding through a power point presentation on the cash flows of some pharmaceutical company; or that same 28 year-old banker drunk out of his mind spending thousands of dollars on bottle service and a raw bar at some trendy club with techno music blasting and scantily clad women dancing on tables? I think we’d all agree that the latter would be an easier sale to the networks.

And Then The Music Stopped

And then it all came crashing down on top of us. What began with the collapse of markets in obscure corners of high finance escalated to a global liquidity crisis, and then a global recession. And now, jobless, and angry, the public remembers that piece about the 28 year-old slurring his speech with a piece of crab hanging off his chin. They think to themselves, “This is who did this to me. This brat making more money than I can count and eating food I can’t pronounce.” What they don’t think is, here’s the kid who is the pride of his family, who’s worked hard his entire life to get into top schools and get a job at a top bank, working 80 hours a week at a cubicle strung out on uppers to push him through to the next day. And yes, on Saturdays at 3 AM he can be found somewhere on the Lower East Side with a piece of crab attached to his face.

The danger we face is not a lack of understanding or sympathy for the wealthy. Wall Street is not running a charity. People who work there know what they’re getting into and don’t deserve sympathy for choosing demanding careers. And in any case the thanks come via direct deposit. Rather, the danger we face is shaming the accumulation of wealth. Those who forcefully pursue their own selfish goals within the bounds of the law generate wealth for those around them. This is a tried and tested fact. By succumbing to anger and an easy answer for what went wrong, in the short term we run the risk of being distracted from the more pressing issues before us. And in the long term, we run the risk of discouraging the entrepreneurship and progress that has lifted humanity out of poverty.