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It
is a universal truth that the existence of risk implies the existence
of failure. Not all types of risk are the same, however, and all failures
are not created equal.
In
fact, failure can occur for several reasons, each of which teaches a
different lesson in risk management.1 One involves
the breakdown of management controls. Consider rogue traders such as
Nick Leeson, whose losses single-handedly brought down the venerable
firm of Barings Brothers. In such a case, the firm bears more risk than
it had intended and it suffers the consequences. Perhaps losses by naďve
and unsophisticated investors should also be counted in this category.
There certainly were investors, among them Gibson Greetings and Odessa
College (the small Texas school that sank most of its funds in such
risky derivatives as “inverse floaters” and “structured principal-only
strips”) who testified in court that they had been misled.2
The second category comprises cases in which management knowingly takes
a risk and loses: It assumes the intended level of risk but gets a bad
draw. Think of the Hunt brothers, who were holding 200,000,000 ounces
of silver in 1979, just before the price plummeted. Or the many well-known
funds, such as Piper Jaffray, that were caught unawares by the interest
rate spike of 1994.3
The
third possibility is perhaps a bit more subtle: The firm bears an amount
of risk that is privately optimal—that is, management understands and
accepts the extent of its exposure—but that amount of risk is not socially
optimal. The prime examples here are the Great Depression of the 1930s
and the savings and loan crisis of the 1980s. This third possibility
is particularly disconcerting because it defies standard notions of
risk management. It is not like estimating a firm’s expected monthly
loss from interest rate movements, a task which, however difficult,
is at least based on a fairly clear underlying concept.
The
fact is that distinctions between the private and social aspects of
risk management remain murky. The most basic questions—why firms hedge,
or whether they even should—are unresolved. And uncertainty about the
private versus the social benefits of risk reduction complicates the
job of sorting out who is managing risk correctly. Admittedly, researchers
have spun stories about smoothing taxes or avoiding bankruptcy costs,
about differences in the costs of internal and external funds, and about
information disparities between managers and owners.4
These stories differ as to how much hedging takes place and whether
it’s the socially correct amount. For example, financial distress can
carry high costs—a long, painful bankruptcy may entail extensive legal
fees, destroy the manager’s reputation, and generally eat up the firm’s
value. Prudent managers, wishing to avoid this cost, would be careful
about the amount of risk their firm undertook. To the extent that the
bankrupt firm loses its value to society, this is socially prudent as
well. But the picture changes (particularly from the social standpoint)
if hedging is used merely to minimize corporate taxes. This makes it
hard to decide whether a firm is bearing the socially correct amount
of risk. It is even harder to assess quantitatively how much socially
inappropriate risk the firm bears. Unfortunately, getting this wrong
can be very expensive, not only for the firm involved, but also for
the entire economy—witness the Great Depression and the S&L crisis.
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I
cite these examples because they are two cases in which there is some
consensus about why the social cost of the risk exceeded its private
cost. Admittedly, many details remain controversial, and economic historians
still debate the exact causes of the Depression and which S&L crook
looted the most.
In
the Great Depression, U.S. banks were made vulnerable by branching restrictions
that forbade them to diversify geographically. A bank in Kansas, say,
couldn’t lend money to New York foundries or to farms in Florida. This
lack of geographic diversification meant that a shock to the local economy
could destroy a bank when its loans turned sour and its depositors wanted
their money back. (Canada, whose depression resembled that of the United
States in many other respects, differed in this one: It allowed branch
banking and had no bank failures.)
The
grave danger posed by local bank problems was the possibility of contagion,
leading to a panic that damaged banks across the country. Such a panic,
of course, is a classic case in which the social cost of risk is higher
than the private cost; individual banks do not take into account the
effect their failure could have on others. To help defend against this,
clearing houses often acted as lender of last resort.5
In the Great Depression, however, the lender-of-last-resort role had
been transferred to the Federal Reserve, which performed it poorly if
at all.6 As Milton Friedman wrote, “This was precisely
the kind of situation that had led to a banking panic… One of the major
objectives of the Federal Reserve System was to prevent such a development.
In the event it failed to do so.”7 Thus
the risk remained, but banks lost their incentive to manage it. The
social mechanism designed to handle the risk malfunctioned.
In
the savings and loan crisis, deposit insurance gave insolvent thrifts
an incentive to “go for broke.” Because equity is an option on a firm’s
value, a bankrupt or nearly bankrupt firm could maximize its value through
speculation rather than hedging—that is, by increasing risk instead
of de-creasing it. In other words, whenston office building), the thrift
could return to profitability if the project succeeded. If the project
failed, it was the FSLIC, not the S&L, that took the hit. It was a classic
“heads I win, tails you lose” bet. In most businesses, such a plan would
not work because anyone lending to an insolvent firm would expect to
receive a high interest rate. For S&Ls, however, deposit insurance removed
the risk premium that would otherwise have shown up in funding costs.
Even if an S&L went bankrupt, its depositors got their money back (up
to $100,000). Again, the social mechanism designed to manage the risk
did not operate as planned.
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How
does this bear on more recent events? Clearly it argues for exposing
perverse incentives that distort the social and private incentives to
hedge, whether they reside in the global financial system or the local
school board. Attempts to explain the Asian crisis or the latest financial
failure overlay a point that relates to many current events. Once you
start considering incentives, you cannot view all failures or breakdowns
in risk management as consequences of anomalous asset price movements
akin to an earthquake or 40 days of rain, though correctly calculating
such events is hard enough. This arises for several reasons.
The
first one is the problem of correlated risks and the too- big-to-fail
principle: If you are sure to be rescued because your failure could
take down the global financial system, then you have an incentive to
get dangerously large, a new sort of debtor’s leverage. If you are rescued
during a systemic crisis, when lots of other banks are in trouble, then
you have an incentive to bear the same risk as others. Everyone has
an incentive to bet on the same thing.8 That is,
instead of taking a chance on the real estate market in Greenwich, Connecticut,
you bet on mortgage rates or emerging markets. The many cases in which
the guarantees are only implicit worsen the problem because they are
open ended, lacking any fixed, defined limit on the size of the bailout.
A
second problem involves reputation effects and managers’ career concerns.
Suppose that managers are rewarded for high returns in good times but
not punished for poor performance in bad times. Capable managers show
their stuff in good times by rolling out the IPO, growing the business,
and so forth. In hard times, however, everyone does poorly and no one
can tell good managers from bad. So bad managers take risky bets in
the hope of looking good—and good managers do the same in the hope of
looking even better.9 You get what economists call
a “signal- jamming” equilibrium. Managers take on too much risk in an
effort to be top dog.
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Incentive problems have an insidious danger. They can lead to self-justifying
measures that trap society in a downward spiral of increasing risk.
By encouraging excessive risk, such measures make risk too easy to find.
(Are the banks failing? We must need more insurance.) In effect, the
system evolves to become especially vulnerable to the risks that are
always present. Despite the problems, it is possible get things “roughly
right” by using economic theory to pierce the veil. For deposit insurance
or in cases where hedging depends on tax or bankruptcy law, getting
it roughly right means designing a social program that at least does
not make matters worse. Research can make its greatest contribution
to solving the problem of risk management by discovering where incentives
are misaligned and guiding us in their realignment. In other cases,
say where managers are working to protect their reputations, there may
be no social program or legislative agenda that solves the problem.
In those cases, research may help individual firms mitigate their problems
or may alert policymakers to the problems’ potential implications. Neither
task is necessarily easy but, in the words of Thomas Paine, “we have
this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious
the triumph.”10
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1.
Christopher
L. Culp, Steve H. Hanke, and Andrea M.P. Neves, “Derivative Diagnosis,”
The International Economy, May/June 1999, pp. 36, 37, and 67.
2.
Charles W. Smithson, Managing Financial Risk: 1995 Yearbook.
New York: Chase Manhattan Bank, 1995.
3.
Stephen Ross, “‘A Billion Dollars Just Isn't What It Used to Be’: Lessons
from Two Decades in the Risk Management Morgue,” Risk, May 1999,
pp. 64–66.
4.
Clara C. Raposo, “Corporate Hedging: What Have We Learned So Far?” Derivatives
Quarterly, Spring 1999, pp. 41–51.
5.
Gary B. Gorton, “Clearing Houses and the Origin of Central Banking in
the United States,” Journal of Economic History, vol. 45, no.
2 (June 1985), pp. 277–83.
6.
Milton Friedman and Anna J. Schwartz, A Monetary History of the United
States, 1867–1960. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press,
1963. See also Gorton (1985), above.
7. Milton Friedman, A Program for Monetary Stability. New York:
Fordham University Press, 1960, p. 18.
8.Alessandro
Penati and Aris Protopapadakis, “The Effect of Implicit Deposit Insurance
on Banks’ Portfolio Choices, with an Application to International ‘Overexposure,’”
Journal of Monetary Economics, vol. 21, no. 1 (January 1988),
pp. 107–26. See also Janet Mitchell, “Strategic Creditor Passivity,
Regulation, and Bank Bailouts,” Center for Economic Performance, Discussion
Paper no. 1780, December 1997.
9.
Raghuram Rajan, “Why Bank Credit Policies Fluctuate: A Theory and Some
Evidence,” Quarterly Journal of Economics, vol. 109 (1994), pp.
399–442. See also Jeremy Stein, “Efficient Capital Markets, Inefficient
Firms: A Model of Myopic Corporate Behavior,” Quarterly Journal of
Economics, vol. 44 (December 1989),
pp. 1335–50.
10.
Thomas Paine, The American Crisis, no. 1 (December 19, 1776).
Joseph G. Haubrich is an
economic consultant at the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland.
The views stated herein are those of the authors and not necessarily
those of the Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland or of the Board of
Governors of the Federal Reserve System.
Economic Commentary is published by the Research Department of the
Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland. To receive copies or to be placed
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