Tag Archive for 'Financial crisis'

Defending the EMH

Tim Harford has gone in to bat for the Efficient Market Hypothesis (EMH).  As Tim says, somebody has to.

Sort-of-officially, there are three versions of the EMH:

  • The strong version says that the market-determined price is always “correct”, fully reflecting all public and private information available to everybody, everywhere.
  • The semi-strong version says that the price incorporates all public information, past and present, but that inside information or innovative analysis may produce a valuation that differs from that price.
  • The weak version says that the price incorporates, at the least, all public information revealed in the past, so that looking at past information cannot allow you to predict the future price.

I would add a fourth version:

  • A very-weak version, saying that even if the future path of prices is somewhat predictable from past and present public information, you can’t beat the market on average without some sort of private advantage such as inside information or sufficient size as to allow market-moving trades.

    For example, you might be able to see that there’s a bubble and reasonably predict that prices will fall, but that doesn’t create an opportunity for market-beating profits on average, because you cannot know how long it will be before the bubble bursts and, to regurgitate John M. Keynes, the market can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent.

I think that almost every economist and financial analyst under the sun would agree that the strong version is not true, or very rarely true.  There’s some evidence for the semi-strong or weak versions in some markets, at least most of the time, although behavioural finance has pretty clearly shown how they can fail.  The very-weak version, I contend, is probably close to always true for any sufficiently liquid market.

But looking for concrete evidence one way or another, while crucially important, is not the end of it.  There are, more broadly, the questions of (a) how closely each version of the EMH approximates reality; and (b) how costly a deviation of reality from the EMH would be for somebody using the EMH as their guide.

The answer to (a) is that the deviation of reality from the EMH can be economically significant over short time frames (up to days) for the weak forms of the EMH and over extremely long time frames (up to years) for the strong versions.

The answer to (b), however, depends on who is doing the asking and which version of the EMH is relevant for them.  For retail investors (i.e. you and me, for whom the appropriate form is the very-weak version) and indeed, for most businesses, the answer to (b) is “not really much at all”.  This is why Tim Harford finishes his piece with this:

I remain convinced that the efficient markets hypothesis should be a lodestar for ordinary investors. It suggests the following strategy: choose a range of shares or low-cost index trackers and invest in them gradually without trying to be too clever.

For regulators of the Too-Big-To-Fail financial players, of course, the answer to (b) is “the cost increases exponentially with the deviation”.

The failure of regulators, therefore, was a combination of treating the answer to (a) for the weak versions as applying to the strong versions as well; and of acting as though the answer to (b) was the same for everybody.  Tim quotes Matthew Bishop — co-author with Michael Green of “The Road from Ruin” and New York Bureau Chief of The Economist — as arguing that this failure helped fuel the financial crisis for three reasons:

First, it seduced Alan Greenspan into believing either that bubbles never happened, or that if they did there was no hope that the Federal Reserve could spot them and intervene. Second, the EMH motivated “mark-to-market” accounting rules, which put banks in an impossible situation when prices for their assets evaporated. Third, the EMH encouraged the view that executives could not manipulate the share prices of their companies, so it was perfectly reasonable to use stock options for executive pay.

I agree with all of those, but remain wary about stepping away from mark-to-market.

Double-yolk eggs, clustering and the financial crisis

I happened to be listening when Radio 4′s “Today Show” had a little debate about the probability of getting a pack of six double-yolk eggs.  Tim Harford, who they called to help them sort it out, relates the story here.

So there are two thinking styles here. One is to solve the probability problem as posed. The other is to apply some common sense to figure out whether the probability problem makes any sense. We need both. Common sense can be misleading, but so can precise-sounding misspecifications of real world problems.

There are lessons here for the credit crunch. When the quants calculate that Goldman Sachs had seen 25 standard deviation events, several days in a row, we must conclude not that Goldman Sachs was unlucky, but that the models weren’t accurate depictions of reality.

One listener later solved the two-yolk problem. Apparently workers in egg-packing plants sort out twin-yolk eggs for themselves. If there are too many, they pack the leftovers into cartons. In other words, twin-yolk eggs cluster together. No wonder so many Today listeners have experienced bountiful cartons.

Mortgage backed securities experienced clustered losses in much the same unexpected way. If only more bankers had pondered the fable of the eggs.

The link Tim gives in the middle of my quote is to this piece, also by Tim, at the FT.  Here’s the bit that Tim is referring to (emphasis at the end is mine):

What really screws up a forecast is a “structural break”, which means that some underlying parameter has changed in a way that wasn’t anticipated in the forecaster’s model.

These breaks happen with alarming frequency, but the real problem is that conventional forecasting approaches do not recognise them even after they have happened. [Snip some examples]

In all these cases, the forecasts were wrong because they had an inbuilt view of the “equilibrium” … In each case, the equilibrium changed to something new, and in each case, the forecasters wrongly predicted a return to business as usual, again and again. The lesson is that a forecasting technique that cannot deal with structural breaks is a forecasting technique that can misfire almost indefinitely.

Hendry’s ultimate goal is to forecast structural breaks. That is almost impossible: it requires a parallel model (or models) of external forces – anything from a technological breakthrough to a legislative change to a war.

Some of these structural breaks will never be predictable, although Hendry believes forecasters can and should do more to try to anticipate them.

But even if structural breaks cannot be predicted, that is no excuse for nihilism. Hendry’s methodology has already produced something worth having: the ability to spot structural breaks as they are happening. Even if Hendry cannot predict when the world will change, his computer-automated techniques can quickly spot the change after the fact.

That might sound pointless.

In fact, given that traditional economic forecasts miss structural breaks all the time, it is both difficult to achieve and useful.

Talking to Hendry, I was reminded of one of the most famous laments to be heard when the credit crisis broke in the summer. “We were seeing things that were 25-standard deviation moves, several days in a row,” said Goldman Sachs’ chief financial officer. One day should have been enough to realise that the world had changed.

That’s pretty hard-core.  Imagine if under your maintained hypothesis, what just happened was a 25-standard deviation event.  That’s a “holy fuck” moment.  David Viniar, the GS CFO, then suggests that they occurred for several days in a row.  A variety of people (for example, Brad DeLong, Felix Salmon and Chris Dillow) have pointed out that a 25-standard deviation event is so staggeringly unlikely that the universe isn’t old enough for us to seriously believe that one has ever occurred.  It is therefore absurd to propose that even a single such event occurred.   The idea that several of them happened in the space of a few days is beyond imagining.

Which is why Tim Harford pointed out that even after the first day where, according to their models, it appeared as though a 25-standard deviation event had just occurred, it should have been obvious to anyone with the slightest understanding of probability and statistics that they were staring at a structural break.

In particular, as we now know, asset returns have thicker tails than previously thought and, possibly more importantly, the correlation of asset returns varies with the magnitude of that return.  For exceptionally bad outcomes, asset returns are significantly correlated.

More on the US bank tax

Further to my last post, Greg Mankiw — who is not a man to lightly advocate an increase in taxes on anything, but who understands very well the problems of negative externalities and implicit guarantees — has written a good post on the matter:

One thing we have learned over the past couple years is that Washington is not going to let large financial institutions fail. The bailouts of the past will surely lead people to expect bailouts in the future. Bailouts are a specific type of subsidy–a contingent subsidy, but a subsidy nonetheless.

In the presence of a government subsidy, firms tend to over-expand beyond the point of economic efficiency. In particular, the expectation of a bailout when things go wrong will lead large financial institutions to grow too much and take on too much risk.
[...]
What to do? We could promise never to bail out financial institutions again. Yet nobody would ever believe us. And when the next financial crisis hits, our past promises would not deter us from doing what seemed expedient at the time.

Alternatively, we can offset the effects of the subsidy with a tax. If well written, the new tax law would counteract the effects of the implicit subsidies from expected future bailouts.

My desire for a convex (i.e. increasing marginal rate of) tax derives from the fact that the larger financial institutions are on the receiving end of larger implicit guarantees, even after taking their size into account.

Update:  Megan McArdle writes, entirely sensibly (emphasis mine):

That implicit guarantee is very valuable, and the taxpayer should get something in return. But more important is making sure that the federal government is prepared for the possibility that we may have to make good on those guarantees. If we’re going to levy a special tax on TBTF banks, let it be a stiff one, and let it fund a really sizeable insurance pool that can be tapped in emergencies. Like the FDIC, the existance of such a pool would make runs less likely in the shadow banking system, but it would also protect taxpayers. Otherwise, with our mounting entitlement liabilities, we run the risk of offering guarantees we can’t really make good on.

I agree with the idea, but — unlike Megan — I would allow some of it to be collected directly as a tax now on the basis that the initial drawing-down of the pool came before any of the levies were collected (frustration at the political diversion of TARP funds to pay for the Detroit bailout aside).

The US bank tax

Via Felix Salmon, I see the basic idea for the US bank tax has emerged:

The official declined to name the firms that would be subject to the tax aside from A.I.G. But the 50-odd firms, which include 10 to 15 American subsidiaries of foreign institutions, would include Goldman Sachs, JPMorgan Chase, General Electric’s GE Capital unit, HSBC, Deutsche Bank, Morgan Stanley, Citigroup and Bank of America.

The tax, which would be collected by the Internal Revenue Service, would amount to about $1.5 million for every $1 billion in bank assets subject to the fee.

According to the official, the taxable assets would exclude what is known as a bank’s tier one capital — its core finances, which include common and preferred stock, disclosed reserves and retained earnings. The tax also would not apply to a bank’s insured deposits from savers, for which banks already pay a fee to the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation.

i.e. 0.15%.  It’s certainly simple and that counts for a lot.  It’s difficult to argue against something like this.

I would still have liked to see it as a convex function so that, for example, it might be 0.1% for the first 50 billion of qualifying assets, 0.2% for the next 50 billion and 0.3% thereafter.

Better yet, pick a size that represents too big to fail (yes, it would be somewhat arbitrary), then set it at 0% below, and increasing convexly above, that limit.