By Spengler
Why should American taxpayers give US Treasury Secretary "Hank" Paulson a blank check to bail out the shareholders of busted banks? Why should the Treasury turn itself into a toxic waste dump for their bad loans? Why not let other banks join the unlamented Brothers Lehman in bankruptcy court, and start a new bank with taxpayers' money? Or have the Treasury pay interest on delinquent mortgages, and make them whole? Even better, why not let the Chinese, or the Saudis or other foreign investors take control of failed American banks? They've got the money, and they gladly would pay a premium for an inside seat at the American table.
None of the above will occur. America will give between US$700-$800 billion to the Treasury to buy any bank assets it wants, on any terms, with no possible legal recourse. It is an invitation to abuse of power unparalleled in American history, in which ill-paid civil servants will set prices on the portfolios of the banking system with no oversight and no threat of legal penalty.
Why are the voices raised in protest so shrill and few? Why will Americans fall on their fountain-pens for their bankers? If America is to adopt socialism, why not have socialism for the poor, rather than for the rich? Why should American households that earn $50,000 a year subsidize Goldman Sachs partners who earn $5 million a year?
Believe it or not, there is a rational explanation, and quite in keeping with America's national motto, E pluribus hokum. Part of the problem is that Wall Street, like the ethnic godfather in the old joke, has made America an offer it can't understand. The collapsing the mortgage-backed securities market embodies a degree of complexity that mystifies the average policy wonk. But that is a lesser, superficial side of the story.
Paulson's dreadful scheme will become law, because Americans love their bankers. The bankers enable their collective gambling habit. Think of America as a town with one casino, in which the only economic activity is gambling. Most people lose, but the casino keeps lending them more money to play. Eventually, of course, the casino must go bankrupt. At this point, the townspeople people vote to tax themselves in order to bail out the casino. Collectively, the gamblers cannot help but lose; individually they nonetheless hope to win their way out of the hole.
Americans are so deep in the hole that they might as well keep putting borrowed quarters into the one-armed bandit. They have hardly saved anything for the past 10 years. Instead, they counted on capital gains to replace the retirement savings they never put aside, first in tech stocks, then in houses. That hasn't worked out. The S&P 500 Index of American equities today is worth what it was in 1997, after adjusting for inflation (and a pensioner who sells stock purchased in 1997 will pay a 20% capital gains tax on an illusory inflationary gain of 40%). Home prices doubled between 1997 and 2007 before falling by more than 20%, with no floor in sight.
As it is, many of the baby boomers now on the verge of retirement will spend their declining years working at Wal-Mart or McDonalds rather than cruising the Caribbean. Some of them still have time to tighten their belts and save 10% of their income (by consuming 10% less), plus a good deal more to compensate for the missing savings of the 1990s.
Altogether, they'd rather gamble, and if that requires a bailout of the house, they gladly will chip in to pay for it. After all, today's baby boomers won't pay for the bailout. The next generation of taxpayers will pay for Paulson's $700-$800 billion. If that enables the present generation to keep borrowing rather than saving, it is no skin off their back. If home prices continue to collapse, the baby boomers will die in debt anyway, working at low-paying jobs until the day before their funerals.
The homeowners of America hope against hope that somehow, sometime, the price of their one only asset will bounce back. The character of Mortimer Duke in the 1983 film Trading Places comes to mind. After losing his fortune in the frozen orange juice futures market, Duke screams, "I want trading reopened right now. Get those brokers back in here! Turn those machines back on! Turn those machines back on!" If a reverse takeover of the US government by Goldman Sachs is what it takes to turn the machines back on, the American public will support it. Sadly, there is no reason to expect the bailout of bank shareholders to have any effect at all on American home prices, which will continue to sink into the sand.
Contrary to what the Bush administration says, it is not the case that banks' troubled mortgage assets cannot be sold in the private market. Those are the so-called "Level III" assets that banks say they cannot value. But that is only a dodge that the banks use to postpone taking losses. There is a ready bid for these assets from hedge funds, in multi-hundred-billion-dollar size. The trouble is that the market bid is 25% to 30% below the prices that banks carry these assets on their books. Traders at Wall Street boutiques who specialize in distressed securities say that US regional banks regularly make discreet offers to sell private mortgage-backed securities (not guaranteed by a federal agency) at prices, for example, of 75 to 80 cents on the dollar. Hedge funds bid, for example, 55 to 60 cents in return.
On rare occasions, the bank seller and the hedge fund buyer will meet in the middle, although very few transactions occur. Although many banks are desperate to sell, they cannot accept the offered price without taking losses over the threshold of mortality, for write-downs of this magnitude would destroy their shareholders' capital. Investment banks typically hold about $30 of securities for every $1 of capital, so a 3% write-down would leave them insolvent. Lehman Brothers classified 14% of its assets as Level III at the end of the first quarter; Goldman Sachs was at 13%. Why is Lehman bankrupt, and Goldman Sachs still in business? If Secretary Paulson, the former head of Goldman Sachs, had not proposed a general bailout last week, we might already have had the answer to that question.
For the Paulson bailout to be helpful to the banks, it must buy their securities at much higher prices than the private market is willing to pay. Otherwise it makes no sense at all, for the banks could sell at any moment to the hedge funds. But that is a subsidy to private banks, administered at the whim of the Treasury Secretary, without oversight and without the possibility of legal recourse.
Some Democrats in Congress are asking for some form of oversight, but it is hard to imagine how they might use it, for a Treasury with $800 billion to spend would constitute the whole market bid for low-quality mortgage assets, and would set whatever prices it wished. Professionals with years of experience set prices on these securities with great uncertainty. How would an overseer determine if it had set the correct price? And if the Treasury decided to bail out one bank (say, Goldman Sachs) rather than another, how would the overseer judge whether that decision was judicious, politically motivated, venal, or arbitrary?
Opposition to the Treasury plan is disturbingly thing. Bloomberg News on June 21 quoted the Democratic chairman of the Senate Banking Committee, Christopher Dodd, saying, "I know of nobody who is arguing over the amount of money or even about that the secretary ought to have the authority to purchase these toxic instruments, these bad debts."
Why the taxpayers of America would allow their pockets to be picked in this fashion requires a different sort of explanation than one finds in economics textbooks. My analogy of gamblers taxing themselves to bail out the casino is inspired, in part, by a remarkable new book by the Canadian economists Reuven and Gabrielle Brenner (with Aaron Brown), A World of Chance. In effect, the Brenners re-interpret economic theory in terms of gambling, showing how profoundly gambling figures into human behavior, especially in such matters as so-called life-cycle investing. The 50-ish householder who has not made enough to retire may take outsized chances, considering that as matters stand, he will work until he drops dead in any case. The Brenners write:
If people reach the age of fifty or fifty-five and have not "made it," what are their financial options to still live the good life? Except for allocating a few bucks to buy lottery tickets, it is hard to think of any other option. If people find themselves down on their luck and see no immediate opportunities to get rich, what can they do to sustain their hopes and dreams? Allocating a fraction of their portfolios with a chance to win a large prize is among the options. And when people are leapfrogged - that is, when some "Joneses" who were "below" them jump ahead - how can they catch up? They will tend to challenge their luck for a while, taking risks that they might have contemplated before in business, financial markets, and other areas but did not follow up with action.
A World of Chance undermines our usual view of "economic man" and substitutes the angst-ridden, uncertain denizen of a world that offers no certainties and requires risk-taking as a matter of survival. I hope to offer a proper review of the work in the near future. As my marker, though, permit me to leave the thought that for providing a theoretical foundation for the counter-intuitive behavior of American taxpayers, the Brenners deserve the Nobel Prize in economics.
Alas for the gamblers of America: they will tax themselves to keep the casino in operation, but it will not profit them. Where, oh where, is America's Vladimir Putin, who will drive out the oligarchs who have stolen the country's treasure and debased its currency?
Heavy costs will be inflicted on the American taxpayer, who is now subsidising Wall Street – and indeed financial institutions around the world – in a bail-out of unprecedented size.
The sequence of events that led to this extraordinary socialisation of finance began with the de facto nationalisation of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the bankrupt government-sponsored mortgage lenders at the heart of the US housing finance system. There followed a rise in the cost of insuring against default in the world's most powerful economy. On some independent estimates, the overall response to crisis could take the outstanding US public sector debt from readily manageable status to a level comparable with such fiscally stretched countries as Italy and Japan.
Concern about the creditworthiness of the US is nonsensical, according to Charles Goodhart of the London School of Economics. It has nonetheless surfaced, along with worried punditry about the dollar's role as a reserve currency.
Then came the absorption of Merrill Lynch by Bank of America and a bold decision by Hank Paulson, US Treasury secretary, to allow Lehman Brothers, the fourth largest US investment bank, to go to the wall. This constrasted with the government orchestrated rescue of the smaller Bear Stearns by JPMorgan Chase earlier this year.
The disappearance of these two Wall Street securities giants raised questions about the durability of the independent model of investment banking. Shares in the two independent survivors, Morgan Stanley and Goldman Sachs, were quickly savaged by short-sellers. In the UK, such short-selling is alleged to have been what pushed HBOS, the country's biggest mortgage lender, into its shotgun marriage with Lloyds TSB.
Still more startling was news that the Federal Reserve was advancing $85bn (€59bn, £47bn) of taxpayers' money to AIG, the world's biggest private insurer. Thanks to its role in the global market for credit insurance, AIG was so interconnected with other financial institutions that its bankruptcy would have been catastrophic for the whole system.
Yet despite the rescue, the festering lack of trust that has dogged the banking system since August last year worsened after this move. On Wednesday, the interest rate on one-month US Treasury bills turned negative, bearing the astonishing message that investors would rather lose money on government paper where repayment was certain than invest in money market funds. The climactic point had been reached where nobody trusted any credit other than the government's.
In such circumstances, experience teaches that central banks have to lend freely. In the event, the Federal Reserve injected $180bn into the markets, while other leading central banks said they were taking co-ordinated measures to help short-term dollar markets.
To round off the week, Mr Paulson announced discussions with political leaders to create a government-sponsored vehicle to take on toxic assets created during the bubble, prompting a manic stock market bounce.
The paradox in this remarkable tale is that extreme illiquidity exists in a world awash with the excess savings of Asia and the petro-economies. Russia illustrates the point. Thanks to the oil windfall, it sports high economic growth, the third largest foreign exchange reserves in the world and low public sector debt. Yet Moscow stocks are collapsing and trust in the financial system has eroded to the point where overstretched Russian investment banks are starved of funds and threatened with bankruptcy.
This is what happens when an overleveraged global financial system unwinds. Borrowing is being forcibly reduced across the world after the greatest credit bubble in history. It amounts, says David Roche of Independent Strategy, a research boutique, to a "tectonic shift from leverage to thrift as the means of financing growth and the concomitant dramatic reduction in global imbalances such as the US current account deficit".
The reality is that the financial system has been operating as if it were an off-balance-sheet vehicle of the government. Private-sector companies and individual bankers have been making huge profits in the bubble. Their risk appetite has been enhanced by previous bail-outs and, in the case of Fannie and Freddie, by the government's implicit guarantee. Yet their market pricing does not reflect the potential cost to the system of their own collapse.
This inability to handle externalities has again been apparent in the markets over the past two weeks as speculators have engaged in short-selling strategies against AIG and the investment banks in the US and HBOS in the UK. This threatens the financial system because the rating agencies respond to the consequent falls in share prices by cutting credit ratings, so jeopardising the victims' ability to fund the business.
Once again, property has been at the heart of a financial debacle, in spite of the assurances of central bankers that a nationwide fall in US house prices was an impossibility. Yet the peculiarity this time lies in property being wrapped in complex financial products that few could understand.
When investors go outside their areas of competence, trouble follows. Walter Bagehot, the 19th-century economist who defined the rules for central bank management of financial crises in his book Lombard Street, said: "Common sense teaches that booksellers should not speculate in hops, or bankers in turpentine; that railways should not be promoted by maiden ladies, or canals by beneficed clergymen ... in the name of common sense, let there be common sense."
The twist in the current decade is that even bank boards and bank executives have failed to understand complex mortgage-backed banking products, as have central bankers, regulators and credit rating agencies.
In this off-balance sheet Alice in Wonderland world, the most absurd feature has been a reward system that has granted huge bonuses to those who peddled toxic mortgage-related products and does not permit much of the money to be clawed back now that the going is bad. Almost as absurd has been the degree of leverage racked up by investment banks.
As Michael Lewitt, the Florida-based money manager, puts it: "Allowing investment banks to be leveraged to the tune of 30 to 1 is the equivalent of playing Russian roulette with five of the six chambers of the gun loaded. If one adds the off-balance-sheet liabilities to this leverage, you might as well fill the sixth chamber with a bullet and pull the trigger."
So what stage in the the crisis have we reached? Bagehot quoted the banker Lord Overstone's description of the progress of an unstable cycle thus: "quiescence, improvement, confidence, prosperity, excitement, overtrading, CONVULSION [Bagehot's capitals], pressure, stagnation, ending again in quiescence".
Over the past two weeks we have experienced convulsion. Yet it ought to be possible to avoid stagnation, because the authorities are following the prescriptions of Hyman Minsky, the economist whose work Stabilizing An Unstable Economy best explains the dynamics of this crisis.
Minsky saw fiscal activism by big government, alongside last-resort lending by central banks, as the modern way of coping with financial distress. That is now taking place. In effect, the US government is replicating what happened in the private banking system earlier in the crisis, when institutions were obliged to take entities they had created, such as structured investment vehicles and conduits, back on to their balance sheets as funding dried up.
Having implicitly guaranteed Fannie and Freddie and underpinned the operations of irresponsible bankers at AIG and elsewhere, the US government is putting bankrupt institutions back on to the public sector balance sheet via nationalisation. Now, Mr Paulson's proposal for the system's toxic assets has the makings of a turning point.
What will the banking landscape look like after this saga? Much depends on the regulatory response. At the very least, tougher capital requirements will be imposed, which could mean the banking system reverts to a lower-risk, utility-like function. Yet one of the most important questions concerns the independence of central banks.
If central banks have to be recapitalised, as seems likely, politicians may want to extract a price that diminishes their operational independence. That could have damaging consequences. For a central point of Minsky's thesis is that fiscal activism and last-resort lending set the stage for serious inflation.
That, together with an increased burden on future generations of taxpayers, could be the cost of the last two weeks' frantic efforts to stave off deflation and keep some semblance of the Anglo-American model of capitalism afloat.
The writer is an FT columnist and chairman of Quintain