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Firefighting - The Financial Crisis and its Lessons (2019) - Book review, part 1

The 2008 Great Recession was the first major global crisis in my adult lifetime. I still remember standing in the lobby of the Budapest headquarter of the multinational company I was working for. The CEO (or CFO or whatever) was explaining to the crowd of maybe a hundred people that something bad had happened and kept happening, and although the company will do everything to protect its employees, the time has come to tighten the belts. Which they soon started doing. I wasn't alarmed. At 26, I already counted myself as a veteran software engineer, so I felt secure in my place. Besides being cocky, I also lacked imagination. Nevertheless, unlike my younger colleagues still on their probation, I was not affected by the economic near-collapse in any meaningful way, and neither was almost any of my friends or family members, so I rather looked at the whole thing as some interesting and mysterious event in history.

I never had any education in finance or economy, but in the following decade I did some reading and I tried to come to an understanding of at least the big picture. I read about bad incentives, subprime mortgages, bubbles, inadequate regulations, and even some quasi-mathematical explanations of how the securitization of mortgages led to obfuscating financial risks instead of diluting them. But I never felt confident that I could explain the Great Recession well if I had to. In short, I lacked a coherent narrative.

This is the reason why I was so happy to put my hands on Firefighting: The Financial Crisis and Its Lessons, a book by Ben Bernanke, Timothy Geithner, and Henry Paulson, among whom the first held the office of the chairman of the FED, and the other two were the consecutive United States Secretaries of the Treasury at the time of the events. They were actually in charge of the US response to the crisis - within the limits of their offices, at least. If there was anyone who could explain what happened, I thought, these guys are the ones! Another big plus is that the book was published in 2019, more than a decade after the crisis. The future consequences of many of their actions were unknown then, but they have had the time to run their course by now.

The benefit of hindsight is a double-edged sword, of course, as the authors, who had, and at least with respect to their reputation, still have skin in the game, can present the events in lights more favorable to them. I don't have enough knowledge of the history of the Great Recession to judge that, and as a financial illiterate at worst and a curious but lazy layman at best, I really can't evaluate their decisions. In short, I just take their word for everything in the book.

And in the following, I try to summarize what I learned from a 160-pages long summary of a very tumultuous and controversial event, in chronological order. In the first part, we will look at ...

....how it all began

Crises naturally don't happen in a healthy economy, although their inevitability is only seen in hindsight. According to the current wisdom, what led to the crisis were the following: global savings glut, the common practice of overleveraged investments, a patchy system of regulations, bad incentives, rampant securitization, and a subsequent panic that turned a normal recession into the Great One.

Low interest rates and overleveraged investments

What experts called the global savings glut was the phenomenon that in the early 2000s foreign investment poured like rain into America (mostly from China), as local investors sought higher yields and better investment opportunities than they could find at home. This caused a huge build-up of debt (both by private households and banks) but plenty of cash.

The sentiment of never-ending good times and low interest rates incentivized financial institutions to overleverage, that is, they financed their investments largely by borrowing. Let's enlighten the concept of leverage with an example. In this, our private citizen Optimistic Oscar decides to buy a house for investment purposes. The house costs $1 million, Oscar spends $100,000 from his own money, and takes a loan for the rest - that loan is his leverage. He duly manages to sell it a year later for $1,200,000 (a 20% extra). He pays back the $900,000 loan to the back with let's say 5% interest, which amounts to $945,000.  The rest, $255,000 remains in his pocket. He turned $100,000 to $255,000 in a year, earning a spectacular 155% profit!

Had he paid half of the original price himself ($500,000), then he would have to pay back $500,000 * 1.05 = $525,000 to the bank which leaves him with $1,200,000 - $525,000 = $675,000. His profit would be $175,000 on the $500,000 investment, that is, 35%. Not bad, but far from 155%.

How would the math look like in the first case if the price of his house had dropped 20%? He would sell it for $800,000, pay the bank its $945,000, which would leave him in $145,000 debt! He started with $100,000, ended up with -$145,000, that's a loss of $245,000. -145% loss!

What if he had paid half of it himself? Then after paying back $525,000 he would end up with $275,000. He lost $225,000 of his original $500,000. -45% interest. Bad, but at least not -145%!

This whole thing is very much like what banks have been doing since the Medicis. They have realized that not all their clients will come to take out their deposits at the same time. It's enough to keep a fraction of their assets at home, the rest they can invest, and earn profit.

In short, leverage is an essential tool in finance. It multiples wins and losses equally. The markets were superbly optimistic in the early 2000s and took gambles that rewarded them immensely. When the times turned bad, it wiped them out.

Patchy regulations and the shadow banking system

Shouldn't regulations have demanded more prudence? Don't banks have capital requirements stopping them from being overleveraged? Well, there were regulations, and banks had standards. But both were inadequate.

The hodge-podge regulation framework didn't make it easy to see what's happening in the economy. There was no single regulator that could assess the big picture, and the strong anti-regulatory lobby ensured there won't be either.

The regulation net didn't even cover the whole financial infrastructure. Many financial entities - part of the so-called shadow banking system - didn't have to abide even by the low standards imposed on banks. Moreover, government institutes, like the FED or the Treasury, didn't have the authority to help them in trouble, either.

Securitization

And then there was the magic of financial engineering, especially the technique known as securitization. Let's explain that briefly and inaccurately. When Joe Average takes a loan from the bank to buy his house, the bank gives him let's say 1 million dollars on the condition that in 20 years he has to repay $2 million (the numbers are completely ad-hoc). This mortgage is an asset of the bank. Now the bank might find itself in trouble one day and in need of quick money. It can decide to sell Joe's mortgage to another bank (or any financial entity) for, let's say 1.2 million. It forgoes the stream of revenue in the next 20 years in exchange for having the cash now (not completely unlike what Joe did in the first place). So Joe's mortgage is actually a product that can be sold and bought, like a second-hand car. 

A mortgage is, of course, not a riskless product (another common trait with second-hand cars...). Joe can default on it, which is a loss for the bank on him (in case the value of his home doesn't cover the mortgage). However, smart statisticians have figured out that even though Joe Average has a 1% chance to default on his debt, one thousand Joe Averages' mortgages bundled together is a very safe investment, because according to the expectations only 10 of them will default. That's the reason banks bundle products together in big numbers, so the future aggregated loss on them is both low and foreseeable.

Of course, the mortgage is just one example of financial products that generate steady streams of revenue for some limited time. Jane's student loan is another example. Joe's mortgage can be bundled with Jane's debt and a hundred similar products and then sold and resold, and split into smaller products and merged into other bundles made of products originated from other banks. Products can be sliced even "horizontally". To explain it with an example, let's assume a bank has a package of 1000 debts, which it splits into 3 tiers or "tranches", each of which generates the same revenue to its holder. It sells the lowest, Tier 1, for 10 million dollars. When some of the 1000 debtors start to default, this will be the tier whose revenues will be affected by those losses. Tier 2 is sold for a bit more, 12 million dollars. The holder of that will be affected only in the unlikely event of more than 10 debtors defaulting. Tier 3 is the priciest, it's sold for 14 million dollars because its revenue is guaranteed. The owner of this has bought peace of mind for the extra 2 million bucks. The numbers might be unrealistic here, but the concept holds.

So at the end of the day, a Norwegian city council can invest into a product to enjoy a steady stream of revenue for the next 20 years that consists of a fraction of Joe's mortgage monthly payment from Texas, a fraction of Jane's payment on her student loan in California, and bits and pieces from a thousand different origins. Of course, by the time the first cent reaches Norway, these products went through so many hands and slicing and dicing that no one can trace them in either direction anymore.

The core idea behind this whole complicated business is to reduce risk. The products are made of diverse and often geographically distributed components. Some of them will default, but the overwhelming majority won't because they are independent. They need different reasons to fail (Joe's financial situation in Texas correlates very little with Jane's in California), and the failure of one product doesn't affect the other. With the vertical splitting, even the probabilities can be controlled, so risky products will be bought by those who can bear the risk.

At least, such was the consensus before 2008. What happened? 

A housing bubble happened...

... that exposed the flaws in the theory brutally. From the early 2000s, the American government actively promoted house ownership. With the help of government subsidies (tax breaks and such) and the historically low interest rates, a huge number of people could afford (and were actively encouraged) to buy their own houses. They did it mostly by taking loans, sometimes with no capital at all (see overleveraged). House prices shot up all across America. This didn't stop the buyers, because the rise seemed to be inexorable. Joe thought that he could buy his house on a loan only. The interest rates were low (at least in the first couple of years, in the "teasing period") and he figured that the price of his home will continue to rise. Even if he ends up being unable to pay the monthly installments, he can sell the house for more than he bought it for, thus even earning some money on the whole thing.

Bad incentives

The buyers weren't alone to blame. Banks and brokers gave loans to people about whom a basic background check would have revealed that they will never be able to repay their mortgages (these were the so-called NINJA loans - for borrowers with No Income, No Job or Assets). Why? Because they had no incentives to do so, just the opposite. The practice of securitization made them indifferent to whether the buyers will be able to meet their obligations or not. The originators of the loans immediately repackaged and sold them, and thus they no longer bore the risk. Brokers even received hefty commissions after each mortgage they negotiated, making them financially interested in not making those background checks.

What about the financial entities who bought the securities? Shouldn't they have demanded more checks? They actually did, that is what credit rating agencies, like Moody's and Standard & Poor's, are for. However, these agencies were funded by fees paid by issuers or sellers of securities. This is called a conflict of interest. It's like you were paid by Adam Sandler to write a review of one of his movies.

And the panic

Eventually, more and more homeowners defaulted on their mortgages. They put the houses on the market which started to push the prices down. Once the trend turned, there was no stop to it.

The bubble burst and so did the theory of risk-defeating securities. House prices started to fall everywhere, which eliminated the supposed safety of the geographic diversity of the securities. Banks and other financial institutions that stored their wealth in mortgage-based securities saw them evaporate. The byproduct of the financial engineering of spreading out and diluting the risk was obfuscation. No one knew exactly which financial products were affected. So instead of cauterizing the rotten part of the system - and rid it of the bad actors and practices with some collateral damage -, the fire spread. The market players started to distrust those who dealt with any kind of securities. Then those who made business with them. And then those who had links to those. And so on. Everyone was reluctant to lend to anyone else, and the system started to come to a grinding halt.


In the second part, I will sum up how the events unfolded in the following 2-3 years, and what role the FED and the Treasury played in the story.

War of styles: Navy SEAL vs martial artist

Martial arts are such a rich and entertaining topic that having started pontificating, I find it hard to stop. However, the act is entertaining only as long as the pontificator is in the right, and one inevitably will reach the end of his/her comfort zone eventually.  Still, there are so many low-hanging fruits - countless myths to bust, claims to debunk, styles to compare, people to valorize or laugh at - that simple common sense can carry you a long way before you make a total fool of yourself.

The chosen topic for today examines the question that often comes up in the minds of martial artists, martial art fans, teenagers, and movie-buffs. And this was the question I posed to my then Shotokan Karate master at the tender age of 16 (in the intersection of all the aforementioned categories): "How would a special forces guy fare against a Karate master?"

By Karate masters then I invariably meant Japanese Karate masters who were both objectively superb and far enough to be seen even more so. My own master's answer was soberingly simple and something along the lines of "Not very well. A master is on a way higher technical level". The response both reassured and disappointed me. On one hand, I was practicing Karate, so I wanted to believe this style is superior to the alternatives. On the other hand, everyone knows that special forces guys are the ultimate badasses. They can snap a guy's neck with one move, drive his nasal cartilage into his brain (a la Con Air/The Last Boy Scout), crush his windpipe, or just go full Jason Bourne and demolish 3 people in 2 seconds.

So let's dig into the question: who would win a match between Batman and Captain America an average Navy SEAL (for the sake of brevity, from now on I will just use SEAL for any special forces guy) and an average professional MMA-fighter/boxer/Thai-boxer/grappler? (I have elaborated my not very falttering opinion of traditional martial artists at length earlier). I see three ways to approach the question, two of which require some research and the third one some thinking. So, the first is looking for some hard evidence supporting either case, which doesn't require expertise neither in martial arts nor in military training programs. The second is is to check the opinion of people who know both SEALs and martial artists, or maybe are both of those. And the last is taking a look at the training regimes of each side, and trying to deploy some common sense. Those who read the previous blog posts will feel the following somewhat redundant, but repetition is the mother of learning. 

Let's try the evidence-seeking approach first. What would constitute hard evidence? Obviously, the aggregated result of a series of matches between the creme of martial arts practitioners and SEALs. We are past the age of gladiators and fight-to-the-death matches, so the rules should disqualify dangerous techniques (eye gouging, punching in the throat, biting, etc), but allow for everything else. MMA-rules satisfy these criteria. If there is a sufficient number of matches under these rules, the statistics would give us the best possible answer to this binary question - the probabilistic one. One or two examples are not enough. You might say that you know a SEAL who kicked the ass of the local MMA champion last Saturday in a bar you frequent. I might respond that I know of two occasions when the SEAL's ass got handed over to him by my friend's Kung-fu teacher. Individual cases mean almost nothing. The loser could be drunk, had a bad day, slipped accidentally, and so on. Or the winner is such a natural talent that he would beat 9 guys out of 10, even if the only hand-to-hand education he ever received was on the schoolyard. On the other hand, if there were 100 such matches between SEALS and professional fighters, and the SEALs won 68 of them, that would say something uncontroversial.

Unfortunately, there is no such evidence for either case. Some ex-SEALs ended up in combat sports, but not enough to draw conclusions from their performance. The first approach is quickly discarded.

The next way of exploring the question is to learn whether there is a consensus among people who know both worlds. My experience in this area is limited, as I only know about one high-profile person who fits the descriptions. Jocko Willink is a former Nacy SEAL, black-belt BJJ practitioner, and all-around combat sportsman (not to mention children-book author, motivational speaker, and podcaster with a huge audience). He covers a lot of related topics in his podcast and he mentioned on multiple occasions how easily he overcame his sparring buddies in the Navy with only a blue belt in BJJ. He is also asked a lot about which martial arts he finds the most effective. Wrestling, BJJ, boxing, and Muay Thai I heard him mention most frequently. I never heard him saying anything about military-variant hand-to-hand combat styles. 

How much is his opinion worth? Jocko is certainly legit. He is too high-profile to be able to avoid being exposed if that wasn't the case, either as a fraud or a fool. He has also recorded countless interviews with both SEALs and martial artists, so to me he seems to represent the consensus. But if anyone can point to well-known people voicing opposite opinions, I'm interested.

I left the common sense approach till the end, as it will be the lengthiest. My common sense tells me to compare both sides' relevant skillsets and physical abilities, and try to infer the result from there. Assuming this is the right way to go, what exactly should we look at? In a fight, you can say there is a small number of major factors. These are (and we are talking about very broad concepts): mental toughness, physical abilities, and technical skills. How do martial artists and SEALs compare in these?

On the mental toughness front, SEALs must be superb. Their training is famously grueling and the military has all the incentives to filter for people who never give up, never back down, and carry through the mission, whatever it takes. I honestly don't know how that compares to the fighter's resolve who are regularly willing to step into a cage to confront someone who wants to beat them bloody and unconscious. Let's call it even.

Mental toughness has another component besides the will to endure. Which is the length someone is willing to go at hurting his opponent. Again, I suppose SEALs are second to none at this. These guys are prepared to literally kill at command, after all. But UFC fighters regularly pound their opponent's head on the ground with full force until the referee pulls them off. It's hard to imagine how to surpass that level of aggressivity and brutality. Let's call this one even, too.

What about physical strength, as in punching power, stamina, the capacity to absorb damage? Or reflexes, natural agility, explosiveness? These are attributes of a sportsman. No military training substitutes for them. SEALs are certainly selected for people who are above average for most of these, but I doubt too much spent time of their training spent on improving on them - apart from the obvious emphasis on physical fitness.

And then, finally, technical skills, in which it's also reasonable to include some physical skills that correlate with them. A Navy SEAL training is less than 18 months long. During that the candidates, apart from rigorously improving their fitness level, learn to use every kind of weapon invented by man from knives to bazookas. They learn parachuting, seamanship, diving, laying and disabling explosives, interrogation techniques, navigation, basic medic-skills, handling radio equipment, survival in water, cold, and wilderness, tactics, you name it. They are pretty busy. Let's assume that they have a one-hour hand-to-hand combat session squeezed in every single day. That would amount to around 500 hours of training, gross, and I think this number is a big overestimation.

Let's compare it with a competitive boxer's or Thai-boxer's training regime. Most start in their childhood years. Some champs started much later, so being very charitable to SEALs in this comparison, a competent amateur county-level sportsman has at least 3 years of training behind him (10, much more frequently). And we are not even talking about professional fighters here. Let's deduct the strength & conditioning + warm-up and bagwork components from their training, they probably still have 5 hours of technical training every week. That's around 250 hours per year, which surpasses the SEAL training, often many times over, by the time they are ready for competing. Not to mention that even their auxiliary training regime is focused on fighting as opposed to general fitness.

In short, the sense of timing, rhythm, and distance, the tactical skills, reflexes, speed, punching power, and endurance of a competitive combat sportsman is just on a whole different level than a soldier's. And his technical skills are simply beyond comparison. A SEAL might practice a right hook a thousand times during his training. A rookie professional boxer has done it ten times more than that.

To wrap it up, in the ring the average SEAL stands no chance. If special forces people knew a way how to train more effectively for conventional one-to-one fights, those training methods would be adopted by coaches in the world of sport. I already hear the objection "Oh, but the military of course keeps those training techniques secret" - give me a break. Only in the movies. Nothing which is shared with thousands of people over the years stays secret for long, especially if it were very much in other people's interest to learn them. In the world of martial arts, there is money, ambition, and - most importantly - genuine unsatisfiable interest to explore new styles and techniques. And as a matter a fact, there is no specific special forces hand-to-hand combat training curriculum. It's something that changes all the time and it's mostly determined by the particular instructor - you can check it on Wikipedia or listen to interviews with SEALs. 

What about a fight in real life? I think, in a real-world fight, the SEAL training would give an edge. Absolute ruthlessness and the acceptance of serious injury on your part are not natural for ordinary humans, not even for UFC fighters. But it wouldn't be enough to make up for the skill difference. And about the windpipe-crushing and nose in the brain punches? You really shouldn't watch so many movies.