CREDIT DEFAULT SWAPS SHOULD BE OUTLAWED -- Soros

As a pointed out by way of this post CDO/CDS are a means of unregulated credit creation.

George Soros has finally had a chance to figure out what these CDS things are all about. And he's had enough:

BEIJING, June 12 (Reuters) - Credit default swaps are "instruments of destruction" that should be outlawed, billionaire investor George Soros said on Friday.

Soros said the asymmetry of risk and reward embedded in CDS exerted so much downward pressure on the bonds underlying the contracts that companies and financial institutions could be brought to their knees.

"Some derivatives ought not to be allowed to be traded at all. I have in mind credit default swaps. The more I've heard about them, the more I've realised they're truly toxic," he told a banking conference.

"CDS are instruments of destruction which ought to be outlawed," Soros told a meeting of the Institute of International Finance, many of whose member banks and financial institutions are active participants in the huge CDS market.

Going short on bonds by purchasing a CDS contract carried limited risk but almost unlimited profit potential. By contrast, selling CDSs offered limited profit and practically unlimited risk, Soros said.

This asymmetry, which encouraged investors in effect to sell corporate bonds short, was reinforced by the fact that CDS were traded and so tended to be priced as warrants, which could be sold at any time, and not as options, he added.

Credit default swaps are used to protect against nonpayment of debt or to speculate on a company's credit quality.


But Soros said: "People buy a CDS not because they expect an eventual default but because they expect them to appreciate in response to adverse developments."

SKEWED INCENTIVES

He said one financial institution that discovered to its cost the risk/reward distortions of CDS was insurer American International Group (AIG.N), which was a big seller of CDS, offering banks protection against a deterioration in their bond portfolios, especially mortgage-linked securities.

The U.S. government stepped in to save AIG from collapse under bad mortgage bets last September, and has put up to $180 billion at the company's disposal since.

"AIG thought it was selling insurance on bonds and as such CDS were outrageously overpriced. In fact AIG was selling bear market warrants and it severely underestimated their value," Soros said.

At this point, the phenomenon that Soros describes as reflexivity kicked in. That is to say, the mispricing of financial instruments -- in this case, CDS -- affected the fundamentals that the prices were supposed to reflect.

Nowhere were the consequences of the ensuing chain reaction more severe than in the case of financial institutions, whose ability to do business depended on trust, Soros argued. He cited the failures of Bear Stearns and Lehman Brothers.

But the potential damage that CDS could do was not limited to financial firms, Soros added. He pointed to the bankruptcy of North America's largest newsprint maker, AbitibiBowater Inc (ABWTQ.PK), and the pending bankruptcy of General Motors (GM.N)

"In both cases, some bondholders owned CDS and they stood to gain more by bankruptcy than by reorganisation.

"It's like buying life insurance on someone else's life and owning a license to kill," he concluded.

Soros' criticism echoes fellow investor Warren Buffet's description of derivatives in 2003 as "financial weapons of mass destruction".

On derivatives in general, Soros said they should be as strictly regulated as stocks.

He said derivatives should be standardised and saw no case for custom-made derivatives, which he said only increased the profit margins of the financiers who tailored them.

(Reporting by Alan Wheatley; Editing by Chris Lewis)

http://www.businessinsider.com/henry-blodget-credit-default-swaps-should-be-outlawed-soros-2009-6

"CDO contracts insured by CDS are in effect non-regulated banks" ~ So "Credulity is caught in a stress test" Lui

Excellent analysis from an insider who knows the ropes....

While margin payments do flow periodically between counterparties to rebalance changing risk exposures, the special conduits that hold CDO contracts insured by CDS are in effect non-regulated banks, much like hedge funds, with no requirements to hold reserves against a "Black Swan" event or a Minsky Moment that might cause a chain reaction.

A Black Swan event is a large-impact, hard-to-predict and rare occurrence that deviates beyond what is normally expected of a situation. This term was coined by Nassim Nicholas Taleb and summarized in his 2007 book, The Black Swan.

A Minsky Moment, named after economist Hyman Minsky (1919-1996), is the point in a credit cycle when investors develop cash flow problems due to spiraling debt they had been structurally compelled by systemic logic to incur in order to finance irresistible speculative investments offered by imbalance between the penalty and reward of risk caused by mis-pricing of risk, usually caused by excessively low cost of borrowing.

At the point of a Minsky Moment, a major sell-off would begin due to the inability to find counterparty to bid at the high asking prices previously quoted, leading to a sudden and precipitous collapse in market-clearing asset prices and a sudden, sharp drop in liquidity. The term Minsky Moment was coined by Paul McCulley of PIMCO (Pacific Investment Management Co) in 1998 to describe the Russian default that led to the collapse of hedge fund Long-Term Capital Management, as worked out by the late Hyman Minsky decades earlier.

According to the Bank for International Settlements, total outstanding CDS at year-end 2007 was $43 trillion, more than half the size of the entire asset base of the global banking system. Total derivatives amounted to over $500 trillion in notional value, spread out in the balance sheets of special investment vehicles (SIVs), CDOs and other conduits comprising the highly leveraged shadow banking system. July 2007 was the month the credit market imploded.

http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Global_Economy/KE13Dj06.html

Credit Default Swaps – Through The Looking Glass

Credit Default Swaps – Through The Looking Glass
Posted At : April 12, 2009 12:42 AM | Posted By : Satyajit Das
Related Categories: Derivatives
CDS contracts and credit derivatives are complex and powerful financial instruments that frequently have unforeseen consequences for market participants and the financial system. As former New York Federal Reserve President Gerald Corrigan told policy-makers and financiers on 16 May, 2007: “Anyone who thinks they understand this stuff is living in lala land.”

Financial innovation can offer economic benefits. A number of major benefits of CDS contracts are often cited by academic acolytes and fans, generally those promoting the product.

The first is that CDS contracts help complete markets, enhancing investment and borrowing opportunities, reducing transaction costs and allowing risk transfer. CDS contracts, where used for hedging, offers these advantages. Where not used for hedging it is not clear how this assists in capital formation and enhancing efficiency of markets.

CDS contracts also, it is claimed, improve market liquidity. It is generally assumed that speculative interest assists in enhancing liquidity and lowers trading costs. Where the liquidity comes from leveraged investors, the additional systemic risk from the activity of these entities has to be balanced against potential benefits. The current financial crisis highlights these tradeoffs.

CDS contracts also, it is claimed, improve the efficiency of credit pricing. It is not clear whether this is actually the case in practice.

Pricing of CDS contracts frequently does not accord with reasonable expected risk of default. The CDS prices, in practice, incorporate substantial liquidity premia, compensation for volatility of credit spreads and other factors.

CDS pricing also frequently does not align with pricing of other traded credit instruments such as bonds or loans. For example, the existence of the “negative basis trade” is predicated on pricing inefficiency.

In a negative basis transaction commonly undertaken by investors including insurance companies, the investor purchases a bond issued by the reference entity and hedges the credit risk by buying protection on the issuer using a CDS contract. The transaction is designed to lock in a positive margin between the earnings on the bond and CDS fees. Negative basis trades exploit market inefficiencies in the pricing of credit risk between bond and CDS markets.

In early 2009, the pricing of corporate bonds and CDS on the issuer diverged significantly. For example, the CDS fees for National Grid, a UK utility, were around 2.00% pa (200 basis points) compared to National Grid’s credit spread to government of around 3.30% (330 basis points). Similarly, Tesco, the UK retailer was exhibited CDS fees of around 1.40% (140 basis points) against a credit spread to government of around 2.50% (250 basis points).

In effect, market pricing of credit risk as between the CDS market and the bond and loan market was significantly different.

Another area of pricing discrepancy is the relative pricing of different firms. For example, in early 2009, bonds issued by borrowers rated “A” were trading at a higher credit spread than bonds of borrowers rated lower (say “B”) in the bond market. At the same times, CDS fees for borrowers rated “A” were trading at a lower level than CDS fees of borrowers rated lower (say “B”) in the credit derivatives market.

There are also notable discrepancies in the pricing of corporate credit risk relative to their sovereigns. In early 2009, Cadbury, the UK confectionery firm, was trading for 10 years substantially below the CDS fee of the UK government but Cadbury bonds were trading at a spread of around 2.00% (200 basis points) above UK government bonds. As people on one side of the Atlantic Ocean might remark: “Go figure!”

CDS contracts also are supposed to enhance information efficiency, improving availability of market prices for credit risk allowing more informed decisions by market participants. As CDS contracts are traded in the private OTC derivative markets, there is limited dissemination of market prices. This limits price discovery and therefore any informational benefits.

In reality, pricing and trading information is only available readily to large active dealers in CDS contracts. This informational asymmetry may advantage these dealers. Knowledge about trading flows in CDS contracts may allow these dealers to earn economic profits.

Benefits of CDS contracts must be balanced against any additional risks to the financial system from trading in these instruments. CDS contracts may create additional risks within the financial system. While CDS contracts did not cause the current financial crisis (excessive reliance of debt did), they may have exacerbated the problems and complicated the process of dealing with the issues.

The CDS market originally was predominantly a market for transferring and hedging credit risk. The contract itself has many attractive economic features and can serve useful purposes in hedging and transferring risk. Even this hedging application is dogged by some of the identified documentary issues that may reduce the effectiveness of CDS contracts as a hedge. Such problems may well be fundamental to the nature of the instrument and incapable of remedy, at least easily.

In recent years, the ability to trade credit, create different types of credit risk to trade, the ability to short credit and also take highly leveraged credit bets has become increasingly important. To some extent the CDS market has detached from the underlying “real” credit market. If defaults rise then the high leverage, inherent complexity and potential loss of liquidity of CDS contracts and structures based on them may cause problems.

The International Swaps and Derivatives Association (“ISDA”), the derivatives industry group, have recently implemented initiatives to “hard wire” the auction based protocols into the standard CDS documentation. They have also initiated changes in market practices, such as fixed coupons for CDS contracts, designed to facilitate trading in these instruments. These actions increasingly focus on CDS contracts as an instrument for trading on default risk and credit spreads rather than one whose primary objective is the hedging of credit risk. The latter would emphasis less standardisation and a greater focus on matching the nature of underlying bond or loan being hedged.

The excesses of the CDS market are evident in the recent interest in contracts protecting against the default of a sovereign (known as sovereign CDS). For example, the CDS market for sovereign debt is increasingly pricing in increased funding costs for the US. The fee for hedging against losses on $10 million of Treasuries currently peaked at about 1.00% pa for 10 years (equivalent to $100,000 annually). This is an increase from 0.01% pa ($1,000) in 2007.

The specter of banks, some of whom have needed capital injections and liquidity support from governments to ensure their own survival, offering to insure other market participants against the risk of default of sovereign government (sometimes their own) is surreal.

The unpalatable reality that very few, self interested industry participants are prepared to admit is that much of what passed for financial innovation was specifically designed to conceal risk, obfuscate investors and reduce transparency. The process was entirely deliberate. Efficiency and transparency are not consistent with the high profit margins that are much sought after on Wall Street. Financial products need to be opaque and priced inefficiently to produce excessive profits or economic rents.

In October 2008, Alan Greenspan, the former Chairman of the Fed, acknowledged he was “partially” wrong to oppose regulation of CDS. “Credit default swaps, I think, have serious problems associated with them,” he admitted to a Congressional hearing. This from the man who on 30 July 1998, stated that: “Regulation of derivatives transactions that are privately negotiated by professionals is unnecessary.”

On 6 March 2009 Bloomberg reported that Myron Scholes, the Nobel prize winning co-creator of the eponymous Black-Scholes-Merton option pricing model, observed that the derivative markets have stopped functioning and are creating problems in resolving the global financial crisis. Scholes was quoted as saying that: “ [The] solution is really to blow up or burn the OTC market, the CDSs and swaps and structured products, and … start over…” ISDA, the beleaguered derivatives industry group, predictably countered limply that: “… the notion that you would, as he said, blow up, the business in that way is just misguided.”

© 2009 Satyajit Das All Rights reserved.

Satyajit Das is a risk consultant and author of Traders, Guns & Money: Knowns and Unknowns in the Dazzling World of Derivatives (2006, FT-Prentice Hall).

Outlook for 2009: It's All About Credit Default Swaps

This time last year, we put down a marker regarding what we expected to be the issues for 2008, namely the collapse of the housing bubble and the related slide in the US economy. Today we make another prediction: that the unwind of Wall Street's rancid leverage pile will dominate the economic and political scene in 2009, both in the US and around the world. The chief engine of that deleveraging will be CDS, the vast, unregulated market in leveraged bets fostered and encouraged over two decades by former Fed Chairman Alan Greenspan and the academic economists who populate the Fed staff in Washington.

Now Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson and Fed of NY chief Tim Geithner are trying to protect this massive pile of unfunded gaming contracts from inevitable liquidation. The under-collateralized wagers that are CDS contracts threaten the solvency of financial institutions around the globe, this despite the efforts to reform the system via enhanced clearing mechanisms, increased collateral and margin requirements. One IRA reader named Marco waxes effusive as to the palliative effects of enhanced margin requirements: "Just as regulators set the minimum amount of margin for securities/options (giving brokers flexibility to ask for MORE margin), and can increase it/ decrease it by fiat, the same should be done for CDS margin requirements. In this manner, whenever it appears that the tail is beginning to wag the entire dog, these margin increases will prevent exaggerated movements from taking place."

Would that it were so. You see, if you go back to the positions taken by NY State Insurance Commissioner Eric Dinallo, who has recently backed away from his proposal to unilaterally regulate entities that write CDS protection to insurance companies, the minimum margin would effectively be a letter of credit that demonstrates the ability of the writer of CDS protection to fund the purchase of the underlying bond at par. But alas, one of Wall Street's dirty secrets is that most of the CDS dealer banks don't post margin with one another at all! If CDS dealer banks were actually compelled to post real, effective collateral with other dealers to back performance, then the entire CDS market would collapse. Indeed, that is what is happening right now, in slow motion. As leverage in the global banking system is being forced down, the CDS market is being squeezed out of existence by a market that can no longer ignore the inherent contradictions in these OTC options.

Now you know why we have taken the view that the only way to deal with situations such as AIG is bankruptcy. Funding the AIG CDS portfolio is an open-ended proposition. But of course Paulson, Geithner et al would rather use tax dollars to subsidize this example of global casino gambling rather than tell the American people the truth about AIG and the other large CDS dealer banks such as C and JPM. And the truth, in our view, is that these large, CDS dealers are basically insolvent, with or without the distorting effects of fair value accounting. And the solvency problems arise not only because of their own CDS positions, but because their dealer counterparties have problems of their own. You may recall a couple of years ago that our former boss Gerry Corrigan, who is now global risk honcho for Goldman Sachs, started to complain publicly about the horrendous state of the back office procedures for clearing CDS.

While GS is and has been one of the chief beneficiaries of the global CDS casino, Corrigan finally started to agitate for change back in 2004 - change that only slowly came online until the DTCC picked up the ball and made it happen. You may also recall that Tim Geithner et al at the Fed began to jawbone the CDS dealers to start "netting out" their CDS exposures with one another. But the op-risk issues with CDS are as nothing compared to the pricing and funding problems with these contracts. In that sense, the focus on back office problems facing CDS and indeed all OTC derivatives has been a canard, a distraction from the real issue, namely the bankrupt intellectual basis for the CDS contracts themselves. What Geithner and Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke failed to tell the Congress, President-elect Barack Obama and the American people is that CDS dealers don't post any effective collateral at all with other dealers. So much for the legal requirements for safety and soundness in 12 CFR. If Barack Obama and the Congress ever needed a final reason to strip the Fed of all regulatory responsibility for financial institutions, the coming nuclear winter of CDS unwind is it.

You see, in the make believe world of interdealer CDS, when a "margin call" occurs, no cash or securities actually change hands. Instead the CDS dealers merely shuffle some paper around and effectively rely on the overall credit standing of the other banks, much as they do in foreign exchange or money market transactions. And virtually none of these dealers even attempt to model the actual default risk in CDS! "When CDS first began to appear in the markets, traders did try to do some work on the probability of default of a given name" one senior risk manager in New York tells The IRA. "Unfortunately, all of these efforts have been dropped in favor of a more efficient if less sound methodology based upon short-term volatility." The risk manager, who is responsible for the portfolio of one of the largest universal banks in the world, goes on to say that while he expects to see CDS evolve into a different product configuration, he doubts that an exchange model will work because "it implies a huge decrease in leverage" for the dealer banks.

Our contacts in Chicago agree. One reader of The IRA named Bob, who has close ties to the CME and the Chicago futures community, says that clearing members are reluctant to put their capital on the line to support a new CDS contract because they view the current market as toxic waste. Why should any clearing member of the CME put their capital at risk behind a central counterparty for CDS when the pricing of this market is so clearly out of alignment with the underlying risks? The fact of the matter is that, in many financial institutions, single name CDS has become a tool for supporting equity prop trading, not insuring against obligor default. Most traders of CDS have no idea about the probability of default or P(D) of the underlying credit. Nor can they demonstrate why the spreads on a given CDS contract has any relationship with the underlying P(D) credit basis, the cost of funds for that name, or anything else.

And where do CDS traders get their P(D) for their tactical trading desk "models," if we can dignify these methods with that label? Well from the Bloomberg terminal of course! Bloomberg and other global data vendors collect survey CDS spread "data" from the dealer community and calculate what is called P(D) based on - you guessed it - volatility! Equity volatility, bond volatility or just the VIX, depending on the trader. It is just market prices and efficient market theory all over again. As long as the players of this version of Liar's Poker agree that the P(D) on the Bloomberg is right, the market appears to function. But the basic relationship between spread/price in no way adequately quantifies the actual risk of default or the cash flow requirements for a provider of protection. CDS spreads are all just about trading short-term equity volatility, thus our long standing position that using CDS spreads as an indication of credit worthiness is a truly ridiculous position, especially when CDS spreads are used in contracts and securities indentures! Can you imagine obligating your organization contractually based upon a nonsensical indicator such as volatility or CDS spreads? But today there are lawyers and bankers in the marketplace who are advising clients to do just that.

As another CDS trader at a major pension fund told The IRA last week: "There are no models in CDS today. If you have an ISDA counter-party agreement between institutions, then there is no collateral at the individual transaction level. It is all dealt with via the ISDA treaty at the institution-to-institution level and thus there is no effective limit on leverage." Or as another risk manager opined: When NY Insurance Commissioner Dinallo made his proposal to unilaterally regulate CDS early in 2008, was he playing a win-win scenario? Was he merely a stalking horse for the other regulators or did Dinallo ever really mean to regulate CDS? Good questions. Given the description above, we must ask: is the dealing of CDS within large global banks "safe and sound?" Does allowing large banks to trade CDS vs. ephemeral benchmarks such as equity volatility not put the entire global financial system in peril? Well, we may find out the answer to that question sooner rather than later.

We hear from a very well placed Buy Side investor with extensive business interests in the US and EU that three primary banking institutions in Europe, two French and one German, have such significant CDS exposure and other problems that they cannot even begin to fund the payouts anticipated over the next quarter. The funding squeeze reportedly is exacerbated by a near-collapse among weaker players in the hedge fund market, who were accustomed to receiving loans from one large French institution, which then stupidly converted the loans into equity. That's right. This past summer, when the bank put out a call for redemptions of $4 billion in hedge fund investments, says the source, only $400 million was returned. And the French bank also used these same hedge funds and others to reinsure some of its own CDS exposure. Sound familiar? Yup, just like AIG.

Unlike the approach taken by Paulson and Geithner to bailout AIG and JPM (via the Bear Stearns rescue), however, the investor claims that EU officials are considering a moratorium on CDS payments by the three Euroland banks in question. The banks would be given ten years to write down their CDS and hedge fund exposures and would receive additional infusions of capital by their respective governments. The source claims that French banks have such huge exposure to both hedge funds and CDS, sometimes linked together, that the positions are beyond the ability of the EU governments to bail them out without a cessation of CDS payments. The IRA was not able to obtain a comment from EU officials over the weekend about these allegations. We'll be making some calls Sunday night and Monday. But if this unconfirmed report turns out the be true, then the beginning of the end of the CDS market as we have known it will be at hand. And ironically, the catalyst for the final solution will come not from the failure of a US dealer, but instead by a moratorium on CDS payments by an EU bank.

In the event, as other governments around the world follow the very reasonable example of the EU, the OTC derivatives market will implode and these unfunded liabilities may very well force the nationalization/liquidation of C, JPM and AIG, among others. And in the event, Hank Paulson, Tim Geithner, Alan Greenspan, Ben Bernanke and other senior officials at the Fed in Washington are going to have a lot of explaining to do to the Congress, to a new President and the global financial community. Tell us again, Chairman Greenspan and Chairman Bernanke, just why do you believe dealing in OTC derivatives and particularly CDS contracts are activities that are safe and sound for global banking institutions?

The Institutional Risk Analyst

The Crisis & What to Do About It

By George Soros
1.

The salient feature of the current financial crisis is that it was not caused by some external shock like OPEC raising the price of oil or a particular country or financial institution defaulting. The crisis was generated by the financial system itself. This fact—that the defect was inherent in the system —contradicts the prevailing theory, which holds that financial markets tend toward equilibrium and that deviations from the equilibrium either occur in a random manner or are caused by some sudden external event to which markets have difficulty adjusting. The severity and amplitude of the crisis provides convincing evidence that there is something fundamentally wrong with this prevailing theory and with the approach to market regulation that has gone with it. To understand what has happened, and what should be done to avoid such a catastrophic crisis in the future, will require a new way of thinking about how markets work.

Consider how the crisis has unfolded over the past eighteen months. The proximate cause is to be found in the housing bubble or more exactly in the excesses of the subprime mortgage market. The longer a double-digit rise in house prices lasted, the more lax the lending practices became. In the end, people could borrow 100 percent of inflated house prices with no money down. Insiders referred to subprime loans as ninja loans—no income, no job, no questions asked.

The excesses became evident after house prices peaked in 2006 and subprime mortgage lenders began declaring bankruptcy around March 2007. The problems reached crisis proportions in August 2007. The Federal Reserve and other financial authorities had believed that the subprime crisis was an isolated phenomenon that might cause losses of around $100 billion. Instead, the crisis spread with amazing rapidity to other markets. Some highly leveraged hedge funds collapsed and some lightly regulated financial institutions, notably the largest mortgage originator in the US, Countrywide Financial, had to be acquired by other institutions in order to survive.


Confidence in the creditworthiness of many financial institutions was shaken and interbank lending was disrupted. In quick succession, a variety of esoteric credit markets—ranging from collateralized debt obligations (CDOs) to auction-rated municipal bonds—broke down one after another. After periods of relative calm and partial recovery, crisis episodes recurred in January 2008, precipitated by a rogue trader at Société Générale; in March, associated with the demise of Bear Stearns; and then in July, when IndyMac Bank, the largest savings bank in the Los Angeles area, went into receivership, becoming the fourth-largest bank failure in US history. The deepest fall of all came in September, caused by the disorderly bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers in which holders of commercial paper—for example, short-term, unsecured promissory notes—issued by Lehman lost their money.

hen the inconceivable occurred: the financial system actually melted down. A large money market fund that had invested in commercial paper issued by Lehman Brothers "broke the buck," i.e., its asset value fell below the dollar amount deposited, breaking an implicit promise that deposits in such funds are totally safe and liquid. This started a run on money market funds and the funds stopped buying commercial paper. Since they were the largest buyers, the commercial paper market ceased to function. The issuers of commercial paper were forced to draw down their credit lines, bringing interbank lending to a standstill. Credit spreads—i.e., the risk premium over and above the riskless rate of interest—widened to unprecedented levels and eventually the stock market was also overwhelmed by panic. All this happened in the space of a week.

With the financial system in cardiac arrest, resuscitating it took precedence over considerations of moral hazard—i.e., the danger that coming to the rescue of a financial institution in difficulties would reward and encourage reckless behavior in the future—and the authorities injected ever larger quantities of money. The balance sheet of the Federal Reserve ballooned from $800 billion to $1,800 billion in a couple of weeks. When that was not enough, the American and European financial authorities committed themselves not to allow any other major financial institution to fail.

These unprecedented measures have begun to have an effect: interbank lending has resumed and the London Interbank Offered Rate (LIBOR) has improved. The financial crisis has shown signs of abating. But guaranteeing that the banks at the center of the global financial system will not fail has precipitated a new crisis that caught the authorities unawares: countries at the periphery, whether in Eastern Europe, Asia, or Latin America, could not offer similarly credible guarantees, and financial capital started fleeing from the periphery to the center. All currencies fell against the dollar and the yen, some of them precipitously. Commodity prices dropped like a stone and interest rates in emerging markets soared. So did premiums on insurance against credit default. Hedge funds and other leveraged investors suffered enormous losses, precipitating margin calls and forced selling that have also spread to markets at the center.

Unfortunately the authorities are always lagging behind events. The International Monetary Fund is establishing a new credit facility that allows financially sound periphery countries to borrow without any conditions up to five times their annual quota, but that is too little too late. A much larger pool of money is needed to reassure markets. And if the top tier of periphery countries is saved, what happens to the lower-tier countries? The race to save the international financial system is still ongoing. Even if it is successful, consumers, investors, and businesses are undergoing a traumatic experience whose full impact on global economic activity is yet to be felt. A deep recession is now inevitable and the possibility of a depression cannot be ruled out. When I predicted earlier this year that we were facing the worst financial crisis since the 1930s, I did not anticipate that conditions would deteriorate so badly.

2.

This remarkable sequence of events can be understood only if we abandon the prevailing theory of market behavior. As a way of explaining financial markets, I propose an alternative paradigm that differs from the current one in two respects. First, financial markets do not reflect prevailing conditions accurately; they provide a picture that is always biased or distorted in one way or another. Second, the distorted views held by market participants and expressed in market prices can, under certain circumstances, affect the so-called fundamentals that market prices are supposed to reflect. This two-way circular connection between market prices and the underlying reality I call reflexivity.

While the two-way connection is present at all times, it is only occasionally, and in special circumstances, that it gives rise to financial crises. Usually markets correct their own mistakes, but occasionally there is a misconception or misinterpretation that finds a way to reinforce a trend that is already present in reality and by doing so it also reinforces itself. Such self- reinforcing processes may carry markets into far-from-equilibrium territory. Unless something happens to abort the reflexive interaction sooner, it may persist until the misconception becomes so glaring that it has to be recognized as such. When that happens the trend becomes unsustainable and when it is reversed the self-reinforcing process starts working in the opposite direction, causing a sharp downward movement.

The typical sequence of boom and bust has an asymmetric shape. The boom develops slowly and accelerates gradually. The bust, when it occurs, tends to be short and sharp. The asymmetry is due to the role that credit plays. As prices rise, the same collateral can support a greater amount of credit. Rising prices also tend to generate optimism and encourage a greater use of leverage—borrowing for investment purposes. At the peak of the boom both the value of the collateral and the degree of leverage reach a peak. When the price trend is reversed participants are vulnerable to margin calls and, as we've seen in 2008, the forced liquidation of collateral leads to a catastrophic acceleration on the downside.

Bubbles thus have two components: a trend that prevails in reality and a misconception relating to that trend. The simplest and most common example is to be found in real estate. The trend consists of an increased willingness to lend and a rise in prices. The misconception is that the value of the real estate is independent of the willingness to lend. That misconception encourages bankers to become more lax in their lending practices as prices rise and defaults on mortgage payments diminish. That is how real estate bubbles, including the recent housing bubble, are born. It is remarkable how the misconception continues to recur in various guises in spite of a long history of real estate bubbles bursting.

Bubbles are not the only manifestations of reflexivity in financial markets, but they are the most spectacular. Bubbles always involve the expansion and contraction of credit and they tend to have catastrophic consequences. Since financial markets are prone to produce bubbles and bubbles cause trouble, financial markets have become regulated by the financial authorities. In the United States they include the Federal Reserve, the Treasury, the Securities and Exchange Commission, and many other agencies.

It is important to recognize that regulators base their decisions on a distorted view of reality just as much as market participants—perhaps even more so because regulators are not only human but also bureaucratic and subject to political influences. So the interplay between regulators and market participants is also reflexive in character. In contrast to bubbles, which occur only infrequently, the cat-and-mouse game between regulators and markets goes on continuously. As a consequence reflexivity is at work at all times and it is a mistake to ignore its influence. Yet that is exactly what the prevailing theory of financial markets has done and that mistake is ultimately responsible for the severity of the current crisis.

3.

In my book The New Paradigm for Financial Markets,<*> I argue that the current crisis differs from the various financial crises that preceded it. I base that assertion on the hypothesis that the explosion of the US housing bubble acted as the detonator for a much larger "super-bubble" that has been developing since the 1980s. The underlying trend in the super-bubble has been the ever-increasing use of credit and leverage. Credit—whether extended to consumers or speculators or banks—has been growing at a much faster rate than the GDP ever since the end of World War II. But the rate of growth accelerated and took on the characteristics of a bubble when it was reinforced by a misconception that became dominant in 1980 when Ronald Reagan became president and Margaret Thatcher was prime minister in the United Kingdom.

The misconception is derived from the prevailing theory of financial markets, which, as mentioned earlier, holds that financial markets tend toward equilibrium and that deviations are random and can be attributed to external causes. This theory has been used to justify the belief that the pursuit of self-interest should be given free rein and markets should be deregulated. I call that belief market fundamentalism and claim that it employs false logic. Just because regulations and all other forms of governmental interventions have proven to be faulty, it does not follow that markets are perfect.

Although market fundamentalism is based on false premises, it has served well the interests of the owners and managers of financial capital. The globalization of financial markets allowed financial capital to move around freely and made it difficult for individual states to tax it or regulate it. Deregulation of financial transactions also served the interests of the managers of financial capital; and the freedom to innovate enhanced the profitability of financial enterprises. The financial industry grew to a point where it represented 25 percent of the stock market capitalization in the United States and an even higher percentage in some other countries.

Since market fundamentalism is built on false assumptions, its adoption in the 1980s as the guiding principle of economic policy was bound to have negative consequences. Indeed, we have experienced a series of financial crises since then, but the adverse consequences were suffered principally by the countries that lie on the periphery of the global financial system, not by those at the center. The system is under the control of the developed countries, especially the United States, which enjoys veto rights in the International Monetary Fund.

Whenever a crisis endangered the prosperity of the United States—as for example the savings and loan crisis in the late 1980s, or the collapse of the hedge fund Long Term Capital Management in 1998—the authorities intervened, finding ways for the failing institutions to merge with others and providing monetary and fiscal stimulus when the pace of economic activity was endangered. Thus the periodic crises served, in effect, as successful tests that reinforced both the underlying trend of ever-greater credit expansion and the prevailing misconception that financial markets should be left to their own devices.

It was of course the intervention of the financial authorities that made the tests successful, not the ability of financial markets to correct their own excesses. But it was convenient for investors and governments to deceive themselves. The relative safety and stability of the United States, compared to the countries at the periphery, allowed the United States to suck up the savings of the rest of the world and run a current account deficit that reached nearly 7 percent of GNP at its peak in the first quarter of 2006. Eventually even the Federal Reserve and other regulators succumbed to the market fundamentalist ideology and abdicated their responsibility to regulate. They ought to have known better since it was their actions that kept the United States economy on an even keel. Alan Greenspan, in particular, believed that giving users of financial innovations such as derivatives free rein brought such great benefits that having to clean up behind the occasional financial mishap was a small price to pay. And his analysis of the costs and benefits of his permissive policies was not totally wrong while the super-bubble lasted. Only now has he been forced to acknowledge that there was a flaw in his argument.

Financial engineering involved the creation of increasingly sophisticated instruments, or derivatives, for leveraging credit and "managing" risk in order to increase potential profit. An alphabet soup of synthetic financial instruments was concocted: CDOs, CDO squareds, CDSs, ABXs, CMBXs, etc. This engineering reached such heights of complexity that the regulators could no longer calculate the risks and came to rely on the risk management models of the financial institutions themselves. The rating companies followed a similar path in rating synthetic financial instruments, deriving considerable additional revenues from their proliferation. The esoteric financial instruments and techniques for risk management were based on the false premise that, in the behavior of the market, deviations from the mean occur in a random fashion. But the increased use of financial engineering set in motion a process of boom and bust. So eventually there was hell to pay. At first the occasional financial crises served as successful tests. But the subprime crisis came to play a different role: it served as the culmination or reversal point of the super-bubble.

It should be emphasized that this interpretation of the current situation does not necessarily follow from my model of boom and bust. Had the financial authorities succeeded in containing the subprime crisis—as they thought at the time they would be able to do—this would have been seen as just another successful test instead of the reversal point. I have cried wolf three times: first with The Alchemy of Finance in 1987, then with The Crisis of Global Capitalism in 1998, and now. Only now did the wolf arrive.

My interpretation of financial markets based on reflexivity can explain events better than it can predict them. It is less ambitious than the previous theory. It does not claim to determine the outcome as equilibrium theory does. It can assert that a boom must eventually lead to a bust, but it cannot determine either the extent or the duration of a boom. Indeed, those of us who recognized that there was a housing bubble expected it to burst much sooner. Had it done so, the damage would have been much smaller and the super-bubble may have remained intact. Most of the damage was caused by mortgage-related securities issued in the last two years of the housing boom.

The fact that the new paradigm does not claim to predict the future explains why it did not make any headway until now, but in the light of recent experience it can no longer be ignored. We must come to terms with the fact that reflexivity introduces an element of uncertainty into financial markets that the previous theory left out of account. That theory was used to establish mathematical models for calculating risk and converting bundles of subprime mortgages into tradable securities, as well as other forms of debt. Uncertainty by definition cannot be quantified. Excessive reliance on those mathematical models did untold harm.

4.

The new paradigm has far-reaching implications for the regulation of financial markets. Since they are prone to create asset bubbles, regulators such as the Fed, the Treasury, and the SEC must accept responsibility for preventing bubbles from growing too big. Until now financial authorities have explicitly rejected that responsibility.

It is impossible to prevent bubbles from forming, but it should be possible to keep them within tolerable bounds. It cannot be done by controlling only the money supply. Regulators must also take into account credit conditions because money and credit do not move in lockstep. Markets have moods and biases and it falls to regulators to counterbalance them. That requires the use of judgment and since regulators are also human, they are bound to make mistakes. They have the advantage, however, of getting feedback from the market and that should enable them to correct their mistakes. If a tightening of margin and minimum capital requirements does not deflate a bubble, they can tighten them some more. But the process is not foolproof because markets can also be wrong. The search for the optimum equilibrium has to be a never-ending process of trial and error.

The cat-and-mouse game between regulators and market participants is already ongoing, but its true nature has not yet been acknowledged. Alan Greenspan was a past master of manipulation with his Delphic utterances, but instead of acknowledging what he was doing he pretended that he was merely a passive observer of the facts. Reflexivity remained a state secret. That is why the super-bubble could develop so far during his tenure.

Since money and credit do not move in lockstep and asset bubbles cannot be controlled purely by monetary means, additional tools must be employed, or more accurately reactivated, since they were in active use in the 1950s and 1960s. I refer to variable margin requirements and minimal capital requirements, which are meant to control the amount of leverage market participants can employ. Central banks even used to issue guidance to banks about how they should allocate loans to specific sectors of the economy. Such directives may be preferable to the blunt instruments of monetary policy in combating "irrational exuberance" in particular sectors, such as information technology or real estate.

Sophisticated financial engineering of the kind I have mentioned can render the calculation of margin and capital requirements extremely difficult if not impossible. In order to activate such requirements, financial engineering must also be regulated and new products must be registered and approved by the appropriate authorities before they can be used. Such regulation should be a high priority of the new Obama administration. It is all the more necessary because financial engineering often aims at circumventing regulations.

Take for example credit default swaps (CDSs), instruments intended to insure against the possibility of bonds and other forms of debt going into default, and whose price captures the perceived risk of such a possibility occurring. These instruments grew like Topsy because they required much less capital than owning or shorting the underlying bonds. Eventually they grew to more than $50 trillion in nominal size, which is a many-fold multiple of the underlying bonds and five times the entire US national debt. Yet the market in credit default swaps has remained entirely unregulated. AIG, the insurance company, lost a fortune selling credit default swaps as a form of insurance and had to be bailed out, costing the Treasury $126 billion so far. Although the CDS market may be eventually saved from the meltdown that has occurred in many other markets, the sheer existence of an unregulated market of this size has been a major factor in increasing risk throughout the entire financial system.

Since the risk management models used until now ignored the uncertainties inherent in reflexivity, limits on credit and leverage will have to be set substantially lower than those that were tolerated in the recent past. This means that financial institutions in the aggregate will be less profitable than they have been during the super-bubble and some business models that depended on excessive leverage will become uneconomical. The financial industry has already dropped from 25 percent of total market capitalization to 16 percent. This ratio is unlikely to recover to anywhere near its previous high; indeed, it is likely to end lower. This may be considered a healthy adjustment, but not by those who are losing their jobs.

In view of the tremendous losses suffered by the general public, there is a real danger that excessive deregulation will be succeeded by punitive reregulation. That would be unfortunate because regulations are liable to be even more deficient than the market mechanism. As I have suggested, regulators are not only human but also bureaucratic and susceptible to lobbying and corruption. It is to be hoped that the reforms outlined here will preempt a regulatory overkill.

The End of Wall Street ~ A story from the belly of the beast

What they were doing, oddly enough, was the analysis of subprime lending that should have been done before the loans were made: Which poor Americans were likely to jump which way with their finances? How much did home prices need to fall for these loans to blow up? (It turned out they didn’t have to fall; they merely needed to stay flat.) The default rate in Georgia was five times higher than that in Florida even though the two states had the same unemployment rate. Why? Indiana had a 25 percent default rate; California’s was only 5 percent. Why?


Moses actually flew down to Miami and wandered around neighborhoods built with subprime loans to see how bad things were. “He’d call me and say, ‘Oh my God, this is a calamity here,’ ” recalls Eisman. All that was required for the BBB bonds to go to zero was for the default rate on the underlying loans to reach 14 percent. Eisman thought that, in certain sections of the country, it would go far, far higher.

The funny thing, looking back on it, is how long it took for even someone who predicted the disaster to grasp its root causes. They were learning about this on the fly, shorting the bonds and then trying to figure out what they had done. Eisman knew subprime lenders could be scumbags. What he underestimated was the total unabashed complicity of the upper class of American capitalism. For instance, he knew that the big Wall Street investment banks took huge piles of loans that in and of themselves might be rated BBB, threw them into a trust, carved the trust into tranches, and wound up with 60 percent of the new total being rated AAA.

But he couldn’t figure out exactly how the rating agencies justified turning BBB loans into AAA-rated bonds. “I didn’t understand how they were turning all this garbage into gold,” he says. He brought some of the bond people from Goldman Sachs, Lehman Brothers, and UBS over for a visit. “We always asked the same question,” says Eisman. “Where are the rating agencies in all of this? And I’d always get the same reaction. It was a smirk.” He called Standard & Poor’s and asked what would happen to default rates if real estate prices fell. The man at S&P couldn’t say; its model for home prices had no ability to accept a negative number. “They were just assuming home prices would keep going up,” Eisman says.

As an investor, Eisman was allowed on the quarterly conference calls held by Moody’s but not allowed to ask questions. The people at Moody’s were polite about their brush-off, however. The C.E.O. even invited Eisman and his team to his office for a visit in June 2007. By then, Eisman was so certain that the world had been turned upside down that he just assumed this guy must know it too. “But we’re sitting there,” Daniel recalls, “and he says to us, like he actually means it, ‘I truly believe that our rating will prove accurate.’ And Steve shoots up in his chair and asks, ‘What did you just say?’ as if the guy had just uttered the most preposterous statement in the history of finance. He repeated it. And Eisman just laughed at him.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Daniel told the C.E.O. deferentially as they left the meeting, “you’re delusional.”
This wasn’t Fitch or even S&P. This was Moody’s, the aristocrats of the rating business, 20 percent owned by Warren Buffett. And the company’s C.E.O. was being told he was either a fool or a crook by one Vincent Daniel, from Queens.

A full nine months earlier, Daniel and Moses had flown to Orlando for an industry conference. It had a grand title—the American Securitization Forum—but it was essentially a trade show for the subprime-mortgage business: the people who originated subprime mortgages, the Wall Street firms that packaged and sold subprime mortgages, the fund managers who invested in nothing but subprime-mortgage-backed bonds, the agencies that rated subprime-mortgage bonds, the lawyers who did whatever the lawyers did. Daniel and Moses thought they were paying a courtesy call on a cottage industry, but the cottage had become a castle. “There were like 6,000 people there,” Daniel says. “There were so many people being fed by this industry. The entire fixed-income department of each brokerage firm is built on this. Everyone there was the long side of the trade. The wrong side of the trade. And then there was us. That’s when the picture really started to become clearer, and we started to get more cynical, if that was possible. We went back home and said to Steve, ‘You gotta see this.’ ”

Eisman, Daniel, and Moses then flew out to Las Vegas for an even bigger subprime conference. By now, Eisman knew everything he needed to know about the quality of the loans being made. He still didn’t fully understand how the apparatus worked, but he knew that Wall Street had built a doomsday machine. He was at once opportunistic and outraged.

Their first stop was a speech given by the C.E.O. of Option One, the mortgage originator owned by H&R Block. When the guy got to the part of his speech about Option One’s subprime-loan portfolio, he claimed to be expecting a modest default rate of 5 percent. Eisman raised his hand. Moses and Daniel sank into their chairs. “It wasn’t a Q&A,” says Moses. “The guy was giving a speech. He sees Steve’s hand and says, ‘Yes?’”

Would you say that 5 percent is a probability or a possibility?” Eisman asked.

A probability, said the C.E.O., and he continued his speech.

Eisman had his hand up in the air again, waving it around. Oh, no, Moses thought. “The one thing Steve always says,” Daniel explains, “is you must assume they are lying to you. They will always lie to you.” Moses and Daniel both knew what Eisman thought of these subprime lenders but didn’t see the need for him to express it here in this manner. For Eisman wasn’t raising his hand to ask a question. He had his thumb and index finger in a big circle. He was using his fingers to speak on his behalf. Zero! they said.

“Yes?” the C.E.O. said, obviously irritated. “Is that another question?”

“No,” said Eisman. “It’s a zero. There is zero probability that your default rate will be 5 percent.” The losses on subprime loans would be much, much greater. Before the guy could reply, Eisman’s cell phone rang. Instead of shutting it off, Eisman reached into his pocket and answered it. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up. “But I need to take this call.” And with that, he walked out.

Eisman’s willingness to be abrasive in order to get to the heart of the matter was obvious to all; what was harder to see was his credulity: He actually wanted to believe in the system. As quick as he was to cry bullshit when he saw it, he was still shocked by bad behavior. That night in Vegas, he was seated at dinner beside a really nice guy who invested in mortgage C.D.O.’s—collateralized debt obligations. By then, Eisman thought he knew what he needed to know about C.D.O.’s. He didn’t, it turned out.

Later, when I sit down with Eisman, the very first thing he wants to explain is the importance of the mezzanine C.D.O. What you notice first about Eisman is his lips. He holds them pursed, waiting to speak. The second thing you notice is his short, light hair, cropped in a manner that suggests he cut it himself while thinking about something else. “You have to understand this,” he says. “This was the engine of doom.” Then he draws a picture of several towers of debt. The first tower is made of the original subprime loans that had been piled together. At the top of this tower is the AAA tranche, just below it the AA tranche, and so on down to the riskiest, the BBB tranche—the bonds Eisman had shorted. But Wall Street had used these BBB tranches—the worst of the worst—to build yet another tower of bonds: a “particularly egregious” C.D.O. The reason they did this was that the rating agencies, presented with the pile of bonds backed by dubious loans, would pronounce most of them AAA. These bonds could then be sold to investors—pension funds, insurance companies—who were allowed to invest only in highly rated securities. “I cannot fucking believe this is allowed—I must have said that a thousand times in the past two years,” Eisman says.

His dinner companion in Las Vegas ran a fund of about $15 billion and managed C.D.O.’s backed by the BBB tranche of a mortgage bond, or as Eisman puts it, “the equivalent of three levels of dog shit lower than the original bonds.”

FrontPoint had spent a lot of time digging around in the dog shit and knew that the default rates were already sufficient to wipe out this guy’s entire portfolio. “God, you must be having a hard time,” Eisman told his dinner companion.

“No,” the guy said, “I’ve sold everything out.”

After taking a fee, he passed them on to other investors. His job was to be the C.D.O. “expert,” but he actually didn’t spend any time at all thinking about what was in the C.D.O.’s. “He managed the C.D.O.’s,” says Eisman, “but managed what? I was just appalled. People would pay up to have someone manage their C.D.O.’s—as if this moron was helping you. I thought, You prick, you don’t give a fuck about the investors in this thing.”

Whatever rising anger Eisman felt was offset by the man’s genial disposition. Not only did he not mind that Eisman took a dim view of his C.D.O.’s; he saw it as a basis for friendship. “Then he said something that blew my mind,” Eisman tells me. “He says, ‘I love guys like you who short my market. Without you, I don’t have anything to buy.’ ”

That’s when Eisman finally got it. Here he’d been making these side bets with Goldman Sachs and Deutsche Bank on the fate of the BBB tranche without fully understanding why those firms were so eager to make the bets. Now he saw. There weren’t enough Americans with shitty credit taking out loans to satisfy investors’ appetite for the end product. The firms used Eisman’s bet to synthesize more of them. Here, then, was the difference between fantasy finance and fantasy football: When a fantasy player drafts Peyton Manning, he doesn’t create a second Peyton Manning to inflate the league’s stats. But when Eisman bought a credit-default swap, he enabled Deutsche Bank to create another bond identical in every respect but one to the original. The only difference was that there was no actual homebuyer or borrower. The only assets backing the bonds were the side bets Eisman and others made with firms like Goldman Sachs. Eisman, in effect, was paying to Goldman the interest on a subprime mortgage. In fact, there was no mortgage at all. “They weren’t satisfied getting lots of unqualified borrowers to borrow money to buy a house they couldn’t afford,” Eisman says. “They were creating them out of whole cloth. One hundred times over! That’s why the losses are so much greater than the loans. But that’s when I realized they needed us to keep the machine running. I was like, This is allowed?”

This particular dinner was hosted by Deutsche Bank, whose head trader, Greg Lippman, was the fellow who had introduced Eisman to the subprime bond market. Eisman went and found Lippman, pointed back to his own dinner companion, and said, “I want to short him.” Lippman thought he was joking; he wasn’t. “Greg, I want to short his paper,” Eisman repeated. “Sight unseen.”

Eisman started out running a $60 million equity fund but was now short around $600 million of various ­subprime-related securities. In the spring of 2007, the market strengthened. But, says Eisman, “credit quality always gets better in March and April. And the reason it always gets better in March and April is that people get their tax refunds. You would think people in the securitization world would know this. We just thought that was moronic.”

He was already short the stocks of mortgage originators and the homebuilders. Now he took short positions in the rating agencies—“they were making 10 times more rating C.D.O.’s than they were rating G.M. bonds, and it was all going to end”—and, finally, the biggest Wall Street firms because of their exposure to C.D.O.’s. He wasn’t allowed to short Morgan Stanley because it owned a stake in his fund. But he shorted UBS, Lehman Brothers, and a few others. Not long after that, FrontPoint had a visit from Sanford C. Bernstein’s Brad Hintz, a prominent analyst who covered Wall Street firms. Hintz wanted to know what Eisman was up to. “We just shorted Merrill Lynch,” Eisman told him.

“Why?” asked Hintz.

“We have a simple thesis,” Eisman explained. “There is going to be a calamity, and whenever there is a calamity, Merrill is there.” When it came time to bankrupt Orange County with bad advice, Merrill was there. When the internet went bust, Merrill was there. Way back in the 1980s, when the first bond trader was let off his leash and lost hundreds of millions of dollars, Merrill was there to take the hit. That was Eisman’s logic—the logic of Wall Street’s pecking order. Goldman Sachs was the big kid who ran the games in this neighborhood. Merrill Lynch was the little fat kid assigned the least pleasant roles, just happy to be a part of things. The game, as Eisman saw it, was Crack the Whip. He assumed Merrill Lynch had taken its assigned place at the end of the chain.

There was only one thing that bothered Eisman, and it continued to trouble him as late as May 2007. “The thing we couldn’t figure out is: It’s so obvious. Why hasn’t everyone else figured out that the machine is done?” Eisman had long subscribed to Grant’s Interest Rate Observer, a newsletter famous in Wall Street circles and obscure outside them. Jim Grant, its editor, had been prophesying doom ever since the great debt cycle began, in the mid-1980s. In late 2006, he decided to investigate these things called C.D.O.’s. Or rather, he had asked his young assistant, Dan Gertner, a chemical engineer with an M.B.A., to see if he could understand them. Gertner went off with the documents that purported to explain C.D.O.’s to potential investors and for several days sweated and groaned and heaved and suffered. “Then he came back,” says Grant, “and said, ‘I can’t figure this thing out.’ And I said, ‘I think we have our story.’ ”

Eisman read Grant’s piece as independent confirmation of what he knew in his bones about the C.D.O.’s he had shorted. “When I read it, I thought, Oh my God. This is like owning a gold mine. When I read that, I was the only guy in the equity world who almost had an orgasm.”

On July 19, 2007, the same day that Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke told the U.S. Senate that he anticipated as much as $100 billion in losses in the subprime-mortgage market, FrontPoint did something unusual: It hosted its own conference call. It had had calls with its tiny population of investors, but this time FrontPoint opened it up. Steve Eisman had become a poorly kept secret. Five hundred people called in to hear what he had to say, and another 500 logged on afterward to listen to a recording of it. He explained the strange alchemy of the C.D.O. and said that he expected losses of up to $300 billion from this sliver of the market alone. To evaluate the situation, he urged his audience to “just throw your model in the garbage can. The models are all backward-looking.

The models don’t have any idea of what this world has become…. For the first time in their lives, people in the asset-backed-securitization world are actually having to think.” He explained that the rating agencies were morally bankrupt and living in fear of becoming actually bankrupt. “The rating agencies are scared to death,” he said. “They’re scared to death about doing nothing because they’ll look like fools if they do nothing.”

On September 18, 2008, Danny Moses came to work as usual at 6:30 a.m. Earlier that week, Lehman Brothers had filed for bankruptcy. The day before, the Dow had fallen 449 points to its lowest level in four years. Overnight, European governments announced a ban on short-selling, but that served as faint warning for what happened next.

At the market opening in the U.S., everything—every financial asset—went into free fall. “All hell was breaking loose in a way I had never seen in my career,” Moses says. FrontPoint was net short the market, so this total collapse should have given Moses pleasure. He might have been forgiven if he stood up and cheered. After all, he’d been betting for two years that this sort of thing could happen, and now it was, more dramatically than he had ever imagined. Instead, he felt this terrifying shudder run through him. He had maybe 100 trades on, and he worked hard to keep a handle on them all. “I spent my morning trying to control all this energy and all this information,” he says, “and I lost control. I looked at the screens. I was staring into the abyss. The end. I felt this shooting pain in my head. I don’t get headaches. At first, I thought I was having an aneurysm.”

Moses stood up, wobbled, then turned to Daniel and said, “I gotta leave. Get out of here. Now.” Daniel thought about calling an ambulance but instead took Moses out for a walk.

Outside it was gorgeous, the blue sky reaching down through the tall buildings and warming the soul. Eisman was at a Goldman Sachs conference for hedge fund managers, raising capital. Moses and Daniel got him on the phone, and he left the conference and met them on the steps of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. “We just sat there,” Moses says. “Watching the people pass.”

This was what they had been waiting for: total collapse. “The investment-banking industry is fucked,” Eisman had told me a few weeks earlier. “These guys are only beginning to understand how fucked they are. It’s like being a Scholastic, prior to Newton. Newton comes along, and one morning you wake up: ‘Holy shit, I’m wrong!’ ” Now Lehman Brothers had vanished, Merrill had surrendered, and Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley were just a week away from ceasing to be investment banks. The investment banks were not just fucked; they were extinct.

Not so for hedge fund managers who had seen it coming. “As we sat there, we were weirdly calm,” Moses says. “We felt insulated from the whole market reality. It was an out-of-body experience. We just sat and watched the people pass and talked about what might happen next. How many of these people were going to lose their jobs. Who was going to rent these buildings after all the Wall Street firms collapsed.” Eisman was appalled. “Look,” he said. “I’m short. I don’t want the country to go into a depression. I just want it to fucking deleverage.” He had tried a thousand times in a thousand ways to explain how screwed up the business was, and no one wanted to hear it. “That Wall Street has gone down because of this is justice,” he says. “They fucked people. They built a castle to rip people off. Not once in all these years have I come across a person inside a big Wall Street firm who was having a crisis of conscience.”

Truth to tell, there wasn’t a whole lot of hand-wringing inside FrontPoint either. The only one among them who wrestled a bit with his conscience was Daniel. “Vinny, being from Queens, needs to see the dark side of everything,” Eisman says. To which Daniel replies, “The way we thought about it was, ‘By shorting this market we’re creating the liquidity to keep the market going.’ ”

“It was like feeding the monster,” Eisman says of the market for subprime bonds. “We fed the monster until it blew up.”

About the time they were sitting on the steps of the midtown cathedral, I sat in a booth in a restaurant on the East Side, waiting for John Gutfreund to arrive for lunch, and wondered, among other things, why any restaurant would seat side by side two men without the slightest interest in touching each other.

There was an umbilical cord running from the belly of the exploded beast back to the financial 1980s. A friend of mine created the first mortgage derivative in 1986, a year after we left the Salomon Brothers trading program. (“The problem isn’t the tools,” he likes to say. “It’s who is using the tools. Derivatives are like guns.”)

When I published my book, the 1980s were supposed to be ending. I received a lot of undeserved credit for my timing. The social disruption caused by the collapse of the savings-and-loan industry and the rise of hostile takeovers and leveraged buyouts had given way to a brief period of recriminations. Just as most students at Ohio State read Liar’s Poker as a manual, most TV and radio interviewers regarded me as a whistleblower. (The big exception was Geraldo Rivera. He put me on a show called “People Who Succeed Too Early in Life” along with some child actors who’d gone on to become drug addicts.) Anti-Wall Street feeling ran high—high enough for Rudy Giuliani to float a political career on it—but the result felt more like a witch hunt than an honest reappraisal of the financial order. The public lynchings of Gutfreund and junk-bond king Michael Milken were excuses not to deal with the disturbing forces underpinning their rise. Ditto the cleaning up of Wall Street’s trading culture. The surface rippled, but down below, in the depths, the bonus pool remained undisturbed. Wall Street firms would soon be frowning upon profanity, firing traders for so much as glancing at a stripper, and forcing male employees to treat women almost as equals. Lehman Brothers circa 2008 more closely resembled a normal corporation with solid American values than did any Wall Street firm circa 1985.

The changes were camouflage. They helped distract outsiders from the truly profane event: the growing misalignment of interests between the people who trafficked in financial risk and the wider culture.

I’d not seen Gutfreund since I quit Wall Street. I’d met him, nervously, a couple of times on the trading floor. A few months before I left, my bosses asked me to explain to Gutfreund what at the time seemed like exotic trades in derivatives I’d done with a European hedge fund. I tried. He claimed not to be smart enough to understand any of it, and I assumed that was how a Wall Street C.E.O. showed he was the boss, by rising above the details. There was no reason for him to remember any of these encounters, and he didn’t: When my book came out and became a public-relations nuisance to him, he told reporters we’d never met.

Over the years, I’d heard bits and pieces about Gutfreund. I knew that after he’d been forced to resign from Salomon Brothers he’d fallen on harder times. I heard later that a few years ago he’d sat on a panel about Wall Street at Columbia Business School. When his turn came to speak, he advised students to find something more meaningful to do with their lives. As he began to describe his career, he broke down and wept.

When I emailed him to invite him to lunch, he could not have been more polite or more gracious. That attitude persisted as he was escorted to the table, made chitchat with the owner, and ordered his food. He’d lost a half-step and was more deliberate in his movements, but otherwise he was completely recognizable. The same veneer of denatured courtliness masked the same animal need to see the world as it was, rather than as it should be.

We spent 20 minutes or so determining that our presence at the same lunch table was not going to cause the earth to explode. We discovered we had a mutual acquaintance in New Orleans. We agreed that the Wall Street C.E.O. had no real ability to keep track of the frantic innovation occurring inside his firm. (“I didn’t understand all the product lines, and they don’t either,” he said.) We agreed, further, that the chief of the Wall Street investment bank had little control over his subordinates. (“They’re buttering you up and then doing whatever the fuck they want to do.”) He thought the cause of the financial crisis was “simple. Greed on both sides—greed of investors and the greed of the bankers.” I thought it was more complicated. Greed on Wall Street was a given—almost an obligation. The problem was the system of incentives that channeled the greed.

But I didn’t argue with him. For just as you revert to being about nine years old when you visit your parents, you revert to total subordination when you are in the presence of your former C.E.O. John Gutfreund was still the King of Wall Street, and I was still a geek. He spoke in declarative statements; I spoke in questions.

But as he spoke, my eyes kept drifting to his hands. His alarmingly thick and meaty hands. They weren’t the hands of a soft Wall Street banker but of a boxer. I looked up. The boxer was smiling—though it was less a smile than a placeholder expression. And he was saying, very deliberately, “Your…fucking…book.”

I smiled back, though it wasn’t quite a smile.

“Your fucking book destroyed my career, and it made yours,” he said.

I didn’t think of it that way and said so, sort of.

“Why did you ask me to lunch?” he asked, though pleasantly. He was genuinely curious.

You can’t really tell someone that you asked him to lunch to let him know that you don’t think of him as evil. Nor can you tell him that you asked him to lunch because you thought that you could trace the biggest financial crisis in the history of the world back to a decision he had made. John Gutfreund did violence to the Wall Street social order—and got himself dubbed the King of Wall Street—when he turned Salomon Brothers from a private partnership into Wall Street’s first public corporation. He ignored the outrage of Salomon’s retired partners. (“I was disgusted by his materialism,” William Salomon, the son of the firm’s founder, who had made Gutfreund C.E.O. only after he’d promised never to sell the firm, had told me.) He lifted a giant middle finger at the moral disapproval of his fellow Wall Street C.E.O.’s. And he seized the day. He and the other partners not only made a quick killing; they transferred the ultimate financial risk from themselves to their shareholders. It didn’t, in the end, make a great deal of sense for the shareholders. (A share of Salomon Brothers purchased when I arrived on the trading floor, in 1986, at a then market price of $42, would be worth 2.26 shares of Citigroup today—market value: $27.) But it made fantastic sense for the investment bankers.

From that moment, though, the Wall Street firm became a black box. The shareholders who financed the risks had no real understanding of what the risk takers were doing, and as the risk-taking grew ever more complex, their understanding diminished. The moment Salomon Brothers demonstrated the potential gains to be had by the investment bank as public corporation, the psychological foundations of Wall Street shifted from trust to blind faith.

No investment bank owned by its employees would have levered itself 35 to 1 or bought and held $50 billion in mezzanine C.D.O.’s. I doubt any partnership would have sought to game the rating agencies or leap into bed with loan sharks or even allow mezzanine C.D.O.’s to be sold to its customers. The hoped-for short-term gain would not have justified the long-term hit.

No partnership, for that matter, would have hired me or anyone remotely like me. Was there ever any correlation between the ability to get in and out of Princeton and a talent for taking financial risk?

Now I asked Gutfreund about his biggest decision. “Yes,” he said. “They—the heads of the other Wall Street firms—all said what an awful thing it was to go public and how could you do such a thing. But when the temptation arose, they all gave in to it.” He agreed that the main effect of turning a partnership into a corporation was to transfer the financial risk to the shareholders. “When things go wrong, it’s their problem,” he said—and obviously not theirs alone. When a Wall Street investment bank screwed up badly enough, its risks became the problem of the U.S. government. “It’s laissez-faire until you get in deep shit,” he said, with a half chuckle. He was out of the game.

It was now all someone else’s fault.

He watched me curiously as I scribbled down his words. “What’s this for?” he asked.

I told him I thought it might be worth revisiting the world I’d described in Liar’s Poker, now that it was finally dying. Maybe bring out a 20th-anniversary edition.

“That’s nauseating,” he said.

Hard as it was for him to enjoy my company, it was harder for me not to enjoy his. He was still tough, as straight and blunt as a butcher. He’d helped create a monster, but he still had in him a lot of the old Wall Street, where people said things like “A man’s word is his bond.” On that Wall Street, people didn’t walk out of their firms and cause trouble for their former bosses by writing books about them. “No,” he said, “I think we can agree about this: Your fucking book destroyed my career, and it made yours.” With that, the former king of a former Wall Street lifted the plate that held his appetizer and asked sweetly, “Would you like a deviled egg?”

Until that moment, I hadn’t paid much attention to what he’d been eating. Now I saw he’d ordered the best thing in the house, this gorgeous frothy confection of an earlier age. Who ever dreamed up the deviled egg? Who knew that a simple egg could be made so complicated and yet so appealing? I reached over and took one. Something for nothing. It never loses its charm.
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The $58 Trillion Elephant in the Room

The $58 Trillion Elephant in the Room
by Jesse Eisinger | See Archive
The roots of this year’s financial crisis go back to a small team of bankers at J.P. Morgan in New York. Now, their invention—credit derivatives—has helped bring down Wall Street and has left Morgan with its biggest exposure of all.

At a time when the reputation of bankers has been shredded, Bill Demchak is a throwback. The day I meet him, the financial world is once again poised on the brink of destruction. The Dow Jones Industrial Average lost 358 points the day before and is already down another 150 this morning. Yet the green-eyed Demchak, in pleated khakis hiked up unfashionably high onhis waist, seems preternaturally calm—especially for a man who, unwittingly, has had a hand in bringing Wall Street to its knees.

Demchak, now the vice chairman of PNC Financial in Pittsburgh, returned to his hometown in 2002 to help rescue the bank after it became mired in an accounting scandal. Under Demchak and the rest of its new management team, PNC has avoided most of the terrible mistakes of its Wall Street peers by spurning bad mortgages, dubious off-balance-sheet deals, and questionable corporate loans. It’s now one of the best-performing banks in the country.

Jesse Eisinger

But before he had this life, Demchak had another, as the leader of a small group at J.P. Morgan in New York that pioneered the kind of financial instruments that eventually led to this autumn’s wreckage on Wall Street. The J.P. Morgan team created and then industrialized credit derivatives, which have enveloped the global markets, growing to a mind-numbing $58 trillion worth of credit contracts. They have spread and morphed in ways that Demchak never intended but always feared.

Long celebrated as a way for banks to diffuse their risks, the credit derivatives invented by Demchak’s team have instead multiplied them. The new credit vehicles encouraged banks and other financial firms to take on riskier loans than they should have; helped increase leverage in the global financial system; and exposed a much wider array of financial firms to the risk of default. (View an interactive timeline of derivatives.)

Credit derivatives aren’t, of course, solely to blame for the pandemic that has helped bring down Wall Street. They didn’t single-handedly force Bear Stearns and Lehman Brothers to bulk up on toxic debt, dooming them to collapse. But they made the financial world more complex and more opaque. Ultimately, they have exacerbated the market panic, as financial firms and regulators have belatedly come to grips with the enormity of the problems. Merrill Lynch ultimately capitulated to a sale because investors had no confidence that the firm had a handle on what its problems were. When the federal government took over A.I.G. in September, it was largely because of the insurance behemoth’s exposure to credit-default swaps, a type of derivative that flourished in the wake of Demchak and his team’s creations. By mid-September, Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson was forced into proposing the largest bailout in U.S. history. Securities and Exchange Commission chairman Christopher Cox (S.E.C. No Evil, October) called for regulating credit derivatives.

Morgan’s derivatives project began in the wake of the Asian financial crisis in 1997 as an attempt to protect the bank from bad loans. Demchak’s innovations worked—for his bank. Morgan came to dominate this corner of the financial world while preserving a culture of prudence. Morgan—deemed to be so safe that it snagged two of the victims of the financial-system collapse, Bear Stearns and Washington Mutual—is still swimming in credit derivatives, far more than any other firm on Wall Street, though the bank says it’s hedged. As of the second quarter of 2008, the bank had written derivatives contracts backing credit valued at $10.2 trillion, roughly three-quarters the size of the U.S. economy.

But Demchak’s innovation has a more troubling legacy. J.P. Morgan, rather than being inoculated, was actually becoming the Patient Zero of Wall Street, eventually carrying the credit virus to the far corners of the global financial system. The structure of the first derivatives deal wasn’t as solid as Demchak’s team had intended. That initial, flawed financial instrument was later replicated thousands of times by J.P. Morgan and other banks, with the same defects repeated and magnified over and over again.

The creation of credit derivatives, only a decade ago, is more responsible than anything else for binding the global financial world together more closely. Now some of the trailblazers are puzzling over what has been wrought. “How can we have a financial system so precariously balanced after such an extraordinarily profitable period?” asks Andrew Donaldson, a former colleague of Demchak’s who runs an asset management firm in London.

Demchak spends his days in an unassuming office in PNC’s headquarters, situated amid a slightly seedy collection of streets in downtown Pittsburgh. Demchak warned for years about excesses in lending and is now baffled by, and even somewhat contemptuous of, his peers’ disastrous mistakes: “At the end of the day, I’m never going to be—knock on wood—a guy you see in the paper and say, ‘Look at this stupid, self-serving decision.’ ”

Later, as he thinks back to 1997 and the days in New York when his team helped get the derivatives market off the ground, he lights up. “Oh, God,” Demchak says. “It was absolutely the best time ever in my life.”

In the mid-1990s, Demchak, along with his boss, Peter Hancock, an effervescent Briton, became converts to the closest thing the banking industry has had to a religious reformation. Back then, relationships drove the commercial-banking business. Glad-handing bankers with tight connections to corporate boardrooms made the rain.

These guys never met a loan from a corporate client they would turn down, even if they weren’t sure it would be profitable in the long run.

Hancock and Demchak’s creed was simple: Banks should know whether their loans were going to make money. The pair insisted that loans be priced to their current value in the market. Because of the legacy of the old relationship bankers, J.P. Morgan was struggling. The problem, in the view of the stock market, was that the bank had the wrong clients. They were sleepy American icons, some of whom John Pierpont Morgan himself had lent to and even helped build. Though bank officials were promising Wall Street that it could generate returns of 20 percent, the return on many of its loans was much lower, forcing the bank to run the race while dragging lead weights on its ankles.

The Asian financial crisis highlighted the problem. Morgan lost money on loans to Asian companies. That prompted the bank to take a look at all of its corporate lending practices, abroad as well as at home. When it did, top executives came to a sobering realization: Not only was J.P. Morgan not making nearly enough profit on these blue-chip corporate loans, the bank had also made far too many of them. Most weren’t loans at all but lines of credit promising funds at some later date. Hancock and Demchak realized that in a crisis, many of these companies would probably ask J.P. Morgan for access to the money they were promised. Worse, they wouldn’t do it unless they were on the brink of collapse—exactly the wrong time for a banker to make a loan. The bankers who made those loans thought the odds of that happening were too small to even consider. “The old banking mentality viewed them as riskless,” Demchak says. But the mentality was wrong.

Morgan realized it needed to act quickly to reduce its exposure. It had to free up capital for more profitable business. But it couldn’t sell the loans without alienating its longtime, blue-chip customers.

Demchak put the new religion into action. “Demchak was the first person I know of who had the vision that the credit-derivatives market could be anything like it is today,” says Charles Pardue, who worked for Demchak at J.P. Morgan before moving to a hedge fund in London.

Over the coming months, Demchak would put his assault team of math whizzes and marketers to work on fixing the problem. Within the bank, the project was called the Credit Transformation.

Demchak received crucial help from his lieutenant, Blythe Masters, a rising star and formidable presence at the bank. She interned at Morgan while still in college at Cambridge, in Britain, and joined the bank after graduating. Ultracompetitive and driven with a passion for debate, she would give talks and seminars proselytizing about the promise and power of credit derivatives, ultimately becoming their “poster child,” according to credit-markets consultant Eileen Murphy.

“When you are doing something new, it gets done only by imposing your force of will,” says a former colleague of Masters’. “She was that person.”

Wall Street likes to call its innovations “technologies” to convey a weighty sense of importance. What Demchak and Masters did was combine two of these technologies—securitization and credit derivatives—for the first time.

Securitization has been around since the 1970s. In such a transaction, a group of loans—for example, mortgage, credit card, or corporate loans—is bundled together and sliced up into pieces called tranches. The lowest portion, called the equity, is exposed to the first losses. The next slice up is exposed to the following losses, and so on, until you get to the top. The slices are usually rated by the rating agencies. (Often, the media and even some on Wall Street colloquially refer to tranches of securitizations as derivatives; they aren’t. Tranches are securities backed by a pool of cash-producing assets.)

The Demchak group’s breakthrough was to inject a little magic into standard securitizations. Instead of putting a particular loan into the sliced-up instrument—say, a 30-year loan to I.B.M.—it put a piece of J.P. Morgan’s exposure to I.B.M. into it. For this, the team used credit-default swaps, a burgeoning form of credit derivative. In a C.D.S. transaction, the buyer is protected against a default. These contracts had been floating around in small, experimental form for several years, having been created by Bankers Trust, a scrappy cowboy investment bank.

Demchak’s team was the first to take them wholesale, using credit-default swaps in a huge deal. They mashed up J.P. Morgan’s exposure to more than 300 giant corporations, created an off-balance-sheet vehicle, then sold slices of that to investors. The vehicle then protected J.P. Morgan from defaults. In effect, Morgan was paying insurance premiums to investors who now were on the hook if one of Morgan’s clients went belly-up. “The innovation of not being tied to specific loans or bonds is what made the credit-derivatives market what it is today,” says Romita Shetty, who was part of Demchak’s team at J.P. Morgan.

Development on the project continued slowly through the second half of 1997, involving painstaking and tedious legal and accounting work, quantitative analysis, and hand-holding and persuasion of banking regulators and credit-rating agencies. Demchak and Masters wanted their first deal to hit the market by the end of the year so that Morgan could get credit for it when the bank reported its earnings. The period was so intense that Masters, an avid equestrienne, at one point took a conference call from atop her horse.

Finally, in December 1997, Demchak’s team closed on this first big credit-derivatives deal, the Broad Indexed Secured Trust Offering, or Bistro for short. Insurance companies and banks, the initial customers, were enthusiastic, snapping it up in just two weeks. The deal was enormous for the time, off-loading more than $9.7 billion of J.P. Morgan’s exposure. Morgan had succeeded in reducing its balance-sheet risk and was able to free up capital to buy its stock back.

J.P. Morgan would go on to launch a credit-derivatives assembly line, becoming the Henry Ford of the new financial market. Throughout the 1990s, the bank was a major player in persuading lawmakers to allow the derivatives markets to remain unregulated—a move regulators are now reevaluating. Bistro helped J.P. Morgan traders in London kick-start the expansion of the “single-name” C.D.S. market, where individual contracts that cover just one company or entity trade hands. This market became liquid and deep by the early 2000s. “We had 100 people,” Demchak recalls. “We helped create the regulatory framework, the legal and accounting framework, and we did billions. We industrialized the product.”

J.P. Morgan continues to dominate the world of derivatives. It has derivatives contracts tied to $90 trillion of underlying securities. Of that, $10.2 trillion are credit-derivatives contracts. Those mind-boggling totals are somewhat misleading. They reflect what is called the “notional” amount in the world of derivatives, based on the underlying amount of the contract, not its current value. When offsetting contracts are taken into account, that figure is whittled down to a much smaller—though still enormous—$109 billion of derivatives, of which $26 billion are credit derivatives. That’s the amount the bank could lose if all its trading partners went out of business, an extremely remote event. But the exposure is climbing, up 17.4 percent from the end of 2007. That’s equal to 20 percent of the bank’s net worth.

Bistro “was the most sublime piece of financial engineering that was ever developed. It was breathtaking in terms of beauty and elegance,” says Satyajit Das, a risk consultant and the author of Traders, Guns, and Money, a financial history. But “in many ways,” Das adds, “J.P. Morgan created Frankenstein’s monster.”

F
or J.P. Morgan, Bistro worked wonderfully. But even in that first deal, the weaknesses in structured finance and credit derivatives that would come to the fore in the 2007 credit-market crash were already there.

Despite its blue-chip assets, Bistro didn’t perform pristinely. The initial slice, the equity layer that Morgan retained as a cushion against trouble, was so thin that it couldn’t weather even one default from one of the bigger companies in the bundle. That ultimately happened, wiping the slice out entirely. The investors who were one notch up, in what’s called the mezzanine layer, lost money as well. Even the buyers of the top-rated tranches, which were thought to be rock solid, had to endure bumpy periods before they got their money back.

During that first major deal, the credit-rating agencies, which were supposed to be impartial, were already deeply enmeshed in the give-and-take of the process. A former Morgan banker who helped create Bistro recalls that Standard & Poor’s was giving the bank a tough time. The rating firm would run the deal through its models, and “each time, it came up with disastrous results. We did some tinkering and all of a sudden, it could rate the deal,” the banker says.

The pattern was set. The rating agencies would become integral to the creation of the structures. Standard & Poor’s says questioning that first deal was appropriate and stands by its original rating. It further says it doesn’t get involved in structuring deals. But the close relationships between the rating agencies and the Wall Street firms were heavily criticized following widespread mortgage-related securities failures after the housing bubble burst.

After Bistro, investors and regulators embraced derivatives as ways to free up capital to make more loans. Banks around the world used the structures to off-load their own credit risk. Competitors rushed to copy Morgan and Bistro.

The knockoffs and followups were even more flawed than the original model. The second Bistro deal, in 1998, suffered credit downgrades. One of the big deals that followed fast on Bistro’s heels was York Funding, a Credit Suisse structure. “They stuffed it with the worst possible credits,” recalls a former rating-agency employee who examined the deal.

One major problem was that banks had the ability to substitute loans in and out of the structure, as long as the loans had the same credit rating. This allowed managers to scour their books for a loan that looked shaky but still retained a good credit rating and swap it in for a healthier one. The tranche’s credit rating would remain the same, making the whole deal look better on paper than it actually was.

Ultimately, the game became less about reducing risk and more about fooling regulators and the rating agencies. “From 1999 to 2000, there was a lot of innovation for innovation’s sake. A lot of products game the rating agencies and game the regulatory capital requirements,” says a former J.P. Morgan banker who was involved with Bistro.

Warning signs piled up. After the tech bubble burst in 2000, myriad similar deals performed terribly. Some were backed by corporate loans. Many were Bistro-like constructs with credit derivatives. As a class, they hadn’t made it through a cycle of corporate defaults profitably, the acid test of any stable credit product. In his recounting of the period, Das writes, “The credit models failed miserably.”

Despite the obvious failure of the first round of this wizardry, Wall Street was at it again by 2003, this time with mortgages. Investment banks sold billions of structured securities, made up mostly of housing loans to subprime customers with shaky credit. As the market got going, Wall Street bundled leveraged loans made to companies that had junk ratings from the credit-rating agencies. At the peak in 2006, Wall Street issued $89 billion worth of Bistro-like structures called synthetic collateralized-debt obligations. Many of the $415 billion worth of the main type of C.D.O. carried embedded credit derivatives as well.

It’s not surprising that they failed again. Investors and financial firms lost hundreds of billions of dollars as part of the housing and corporate loan meltdown. Only then did the credit-rating agencies come under assault for being too closely involved in helping Wall Street create the complex structures. It took until this year for the structured-finance market to come to a screeching halt.

T
oday, the financial markets are living in the slipstream of the Bistro deal. “People like to talk about what a shambles the banking system is. But it’s a shambles by design. You are taking on capital, reserving some of it, and lending it out. The whole system is levered,” says a former J.P. Morgan banker. After Bistro, it became more so.

The practice of crafting loans that banks had no intention of keeping on their own balance sheets wasn’t invented by J.P. Morgan, nor was the credit-derivatives market solely responsible for making it possible. Certainly, not all the lending excesses, especially in mortgages, can be laid at the feet of the complex Wall Street structures that used derivatives. But Bistro spread the popularity of this “originate and distribute” model. This experience taught the banking industry that loans designed to be sold to investors for a quick profit performed much more poorly than loans that banks had to keep.

In addition to keeping the very small piece of Bistro’s first-loss equity slice, J.P. Morgan retained part of the very top slice. Demchak’s team christened it “supersenior.” His group knew that there were risks, though slight, in keeping exposure to these slices. A.I.G., Merrill Lynch, and bond insurers MBIA and Ambac ignored them. Knowingly or not, these firms followed the Bistro deal, retaining supersenior exposure on their books to billions of dollars’ worth of structures in recent years. These companies thought—erroneously—that the slices were so unlikely to default that they needn’t set aside much capital for that eventuality.

The problem was that the underlying assets propping these slices up weren’t blue-chip loans but rather loans to subprime borrowers and junk companies. The supersenior slices turned out to be enormously risky, exposing these companies to huge losses.

Bankers have lost their heads in the past several years. The financial system has run amok. When the federal government took control of mortgage giants Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the takeover was deemed a “credit event,” triggering the credit-default swaps that other companies held as insurance against such an event. A week later, Lehman filed for bankruptcy, shrouding the market in an even greater fog. And then, investors in A.I.G. panicked. The insurance giant had written hundreds of billions of dollars’ worth of protection on the supersenior slices of mortgage-backed securities. Because of its high credit rating, A.I.G. hadn’t needed to post any initial collateral. But as the market sent the cost of default protection soaring, A.I.G.’s trading partners demanded collateral from the insurer. A.I.G. didn’t have it. Credit-rating agencies downgraded the insurance company, requiring that it post even more collateral. This left A.I.G. teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, and in an unprecedented intervention, it had to be nationalized by the federal government. For the first time, the C.D.S. market shrank in the first half of the year, after doubling every year since 2001.

Bistro had tied the world together, taking credit risk from the banks and passing it on to anyone who wanted it. For years, proponents of credit derivatives, including then-Federal Reserve chairman Alan Greenspan and current chair Ben Bernanke, had celebrated the way they spread risk. Everyone might share a little bit of risk, but no firm would collapse from it. Yet in this credit crisis, everyone has become infected.

Y
ou can almost detect a crisis of faith in Demchak. In the past eight years, he’s seen one market failure after another. First came the Chase takeover of J.P. Morgan. Chase’s stock soared in the ’90s as investors credulously rewarded its growth. Although it was able to take over the languishing J.P. Morgan, Chase had exposure to almost every big blowup in the wake of the bursting of the 1990s stock market bubble. Much of Demchak’s good work to off-load risk was for naught. (After Demchak left J.P. Morgan in 2002, almost every member of his team followed except Masters, who now runs the bank’s commodities businesses and is regarded as a possible C.E.O. candidate one day.)

Then the credit markets ran wild, with bankers handing out loans that Demchak knew could never be profitable. Today, the markets are gripped with what he sees as an oft-irrational panic, driving prices to fluctuate wildly.

Since Ronald Reagan’s presidency, the dominant ideology governing the financial world has been what George Soros calls “market fundamentalism”—the belief that we should trust the market when deciding how to allocate our resources. We’ll all be better off, the argument goes, if capital is allowed to flow wherever the prices call for it, with as little central planning and governmental interference as possible.

But we have had two great investment bubbles, first in the stock market and now in the credit markets. For the first time in a generation, even some bankers question whether the markets know anything. If they can’t be trusted, what’s going to replace them?

“I used to be the biggest advocate of marking everything to market at all times, because it keeps everyone honest,” Demchak says, referring to the practice of recording the value on the books at the current value. But he saw markets overreacting, swinging from euphoria to pessimism. Now he thinks the fates of great companies are in the hands of inexperienced traders speculating in thin markets. A colleague complained to Demchak recently that “some 24-year-old kid is going to mark me down or up 100 million bucks today. How is that?”

Demchak understands his colleague’s frustration. “He is right.”