Streetwise Professor

A week ago Friday (10/10/25) there was a crypto crash. Not huge, but not small. Bitcoin:

Ether was also hit.

The proximate cause was the most recent Trump tariff spasm. But that was just the spark. The initial down move triggered classical self-reinforcing crash dynamics. And the crypto market structure is arguably uniquely vulnerable to such events.

As I’ve written for years and years, (a) tightly coupled systems are vulnerable to catastrophic collapse, and (b) a wide variety of factors produce tight coupling in these markets. The most important of these factors is marking to market and variation margin.

And this dynamic is particular fraught in crypto. Positions are marked to market at a very high frequency. Moreover, the resulting margin calls occur at the same frequency. That frequency is so high that margin breaches result in liquidations of positions (“auto liquidations”) because there is no time to replenish collateral. These liquidations exacerbate price movements, creating a positive feedback mechanism–and positive feedback is almost always a bad thing in financial markets.

But it gets better! Risky positions are sometimes collateralized with . . . risky collateral! Specifically so-called “stablecoins.” I say “so-called” because stability is aspirational rather than real, especially for a new variety of “stablecoins” implicated in the 10/10 event, like USDe.

Whereas traditional stablecoins like Tether are supposedly backed by high quality, low-risk dollar assets (and the recent “Genius Act” will reduce any uncertainty about that), USDe is “backed” by both dollar assets and–wait for it–crypto. So what is the lithium that keeps USDe “stable”? Hedging using perpetual futures.

No. Seriously. Yeah, because hedges are always perfect, right? Here’s the only perfect hedge I’m aware of:

So in reality the “stablecoin” has basis risk, the basis being the difference between the price of the crypto collateral and the perp futures.

Arbitrage is supposed to keep the basis small with little volatility. However, if you look at data, e.g., the spread between BTC and BTC perp futures on Coinbase, you will see that there are frequent and large basis movements, often as big as 1 percent.

Moreover, USDe is traded on multiple exchanges, and the prices can diverge. Again, arbitrage is supposed to keep those divergences small and of short duration, but the market moves faster than arbitrage: given the frequent revaluing of positions and collateral, even a very brief price divergence can trigger a self-reinforcing spiral before arbitrage can close the gap.

On 10/10, Coinbase used the price of USDe on its platform to market collateral to market. But that exchange is not the primary USDe platform, and is therefore relatively illiquid. So forced liquidations of positions on Coinbase due to the price move and marking to market led to liquidations of USDe collateral which pushed downward pressure on the Coinbase USDe price which led to more positions being undercollateralized which led to those positions being liquidated. And this all happened faster than the speed of arb. Rinse, wash, repeat.

Can you say wrong-way risk? I knew you could.

The industry cope is to say “well ackshually if Coinbase had used the USDe price on more liquid exchanges as its USDe ‘oracle’ this wouldn’t have happened.”

Maybe. But irrelevant. What happened on 10/10 was a “normal accident.” Normal accidents result from a sequence of events in a tightly coupled. complex system. Accidents are “normal” in such systems because there are many, many, many possible sequences that can trigger accidents. Meaning that even if this particular sequence is eliminated by referencing prices from the most liquid exchange, many, many, many other such sequences will remain.

The underlying “cause” of such events is the very nature of the system itself. The reason crypto is particularly susceptible is the tight coupling due to frequent marking to market and high leverage. Those factors remain.

The crypto system is acutely vulnerable due to another structural factor–the fragmentation of trading. As I’ve frequently written, crypto market structure is puzzling. The centripetal force of liquidity typically results in the concentration of trading on a single platform. Crypto, in contrast, is traded on multiple exchanges, with several have a fairly large market share.

This fragmentation increases the number of connections and therefore the number of possible paths by which a destabilizing shock can spread. And referencing prices from other exchanges to value positions or collateral on a given exchange creates more such interconnections.

In brief, a shock–a price shock, or an operational shock–on one exchange can impact other exchanges. These shocks can trigger the destabilizing auto liquidations.

“Too big to fail” is not the right description of the crypto market. Instead, “too interconnected and tightly coupled and complex to succeed” is more accurate.

It must also be noted that the factors that make the crypto market systemically fragile make it unduly susceptible to manipulation which can in turn trigger systemic crises.

One of the oldest strategies in the book is “gunning the stops.” The play being that if you force prices to hit stops order triggers, that will induce trades that move prices further in the same direction.

In crypto, the game is “gunning the liquidations.” The idea is the same. Trade like a whale to push the price in a particular direction. If the move is big enough, that will trigger liquidations that move the price further in that direction. And since some collateral is risky, there is another way to manipulate–bash the collateral.

Given the high leverage and high frequency marking to market, the necessary push isn’t that big–maybe a dolphin can do it. And as shown on 10/10, and as discussed above, once the price moves begin they can trigger a crash.

It is also disturbing that crypto exchanges can profit from liquidations. Conceivably this could provide an incentive for the exchanges to manipulate themselves. But even if that’s not the case, the fact that they can profit from destabilizing manipulations, and instability generally, means that they have a weaker incentive, and perhaps a positive disincentive, to prevent/deter manipulations or big price moves.

In sum, crypto market structure is crapto. It has all of the inherent vulnerabilities of markets, but on meth. Supposed “innovations”–like near continuous marking to market and unstablecoin collateral–exacerbate these vulnerabilities. As does the fragmentation.

All meaning that it is inevitable that you will see this movie again.

Odd Lots was in Chicago last week, and after interviewing Don Wilson they interviewed CME CEO Terry Duffy. The interview was posted today.

CME's Terry Duffy touts its partnership with FanDuel. What CME will offer is basically what bucket shops offered back in the day. The irony is that back then bucket shops were the betes noire of exchanges. https://t.co/Z34P89KDJZ

— streetwiseprof (@streetwiseprof) October 2, 2025

I’ll get to the FanDuel tie-up in a bit, but first I want to discuss something else that came up–perpetual futures, which are a hot topic now (even though hot topic is not punk rock). Duffy cast doubt on the feasibility of perpetual futures in most CME products–he mentioned ags specifically. I agree with his conclusion but not his reasoning.

Duffy argues that perpfuts can’t work for commodities because they don’t fit the legal definition of a futures contract, which involves pricing something for delivery at a later date. He also argues that it can’t work for deliverables.

Maybe perfuts check the legal box, maybe they don’t. Twirling my Oliver Wendell Holmes-esque mustache, I could come up with a clever legal argument that based on the way perpfuts work, they are pricing a commodity at the time of the next marking-to-market, say an hour from now. Or a minute from now. Which would be in the future, either way.

And that marking-to-market is the real reason commodity perpfuts won’t work. Take the case of Bitcoin. Bitcoin perpetuals involve periodic (usually hourly) “funding payments” based on the difference between the futures price and the reference spot price taken from an exchange like Coinbase or Bitstamp. Basically cash settlement on an hourly frequency. But the contract remains live after each settlement.

So basically, a perpfut it is a perpetually (automatically) rolling cash-settled one hour futures contract. The advantages of the future over trading the spot are (a) embedded leverage, often 100-to-1, and (b) the ability to short without borrowing the underlying. Perpfuts are like trading spot, but with leverage.

This works for things for which there is a liquid reference spot market. Bitcoin and some other cryptos have that.

You could do this with say the S&P 500 because there is a large, liquid, continuously traded, transparent cash/spot market. You could do it with currencies, and via its FX Spot+ (“Rolling spot”) contract, the CME (via its EBS subsidiary) is doing just that.

You can’t do it with most commodities because there are no liquid, continuously traded, transparent cash/spot markets. Not in grains. Not in oil or other energy products (with the possible exceptions of natural gas and power). Not likely in precious metals–there is RTC trading in gold, but it is bilateral and there is no transparent pricing. Maybe you could do it with LME non-ferrous metals, because of their unique “cash” pricing mechanism.

So it’s not legal obstacles or deliverability that preclude perpetual futures in most (if not all) physical commodities. It’s the lack of a reliable spot pricing mechanism that can tie the futures and cash/spot prices together as perps are intended to do.

This is basically a special case of why I have ridiculed proposals for cash settlement in commodities for over 30 years. It’s only that the problem is even more pronounced for perpfuts because you need to observe spot prices with metronomic regularity every day, not just around contract expirations.

Turning to CME and FanDuel, my X post basically says it all. It is hilarious to me that CME is offering “event contracts” that are indistinguishable from the kinds of bets one could make on bucket shops back in the bad old days. Duffy describes contracts like “will the price of gold be above X an hour from now?” (NB: if that’s a futures contract, as Duffy claims it is, then perpfuts are no different: see above). The contracts would be “digital” (i.e, have a fixed positive payoff if the event happens, zero payoff if it doesn’t).

Well, that’s exactly the kind of thing bucket shops traded back in the day. (0dte options, which are also a thing now on many exchanges, are also very similar to old-school bucket shot bets). Exactly like them.

That’s an 1892 painting of a bucketshop. Note the use of the high tech chalkboard app.

So why hilarious? Because exchanges waged war on bucket shops for decades in the late-19th and early-20th centuries. A journal article provides some color:

On the morning of August 29, 1887, Abner Wright, president of the Chicago Board of Trade, forcibly removed the instruments of the Postal Telegraph and the Baltimore and Ohio Telegraph companies from the floor of the exchange, literally throwing their equipment out of the building. A few months later, on the night of December 15, Wright discovered some mysterious electrical cables leading out of the basement of the exchange building. Thinking that they were telegraph lines, he ordered them cut with an axe. Instead, they were cables connecting the building to the police and fire departments.¹ His desire to sever the Board of Trade’s telegraph connections might seem surprising, since the telegraph network was indispensable to the operations of the major stock and commodity exchanges.

That’s why the CME’s current move is hilarious. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.

I’m not censorious of bucket shops per se. People gonna gamble. The CBOT’s (and NYSE’s and other exchanges’) ire reflected not a moral judgment, but a dislike of competition. (Yes you can make arguments like Mulherin, Netter and Overdahl that the shops free rode on the price discovery of exchanges, and that impaired liquidity. But as I’ve shown in my academic work, this “free riding” can actually enhance efficiency if exchanges have market power, which they almost certainly do).

Exchanges today almost certainly realize that they can’t drive bucket shops, excuse me, betting apps, out of business: Terry Duffy can’t forcibly remove their equipment, a la his distant predecessor Abner Wright. So the best alternative is to get in the game with them.

Perfectly reasonable commercial strategy, but a deeply ironic one.

SEC Chairman Paul Atkins has clearly set out to be the anti-Gary Gensler. If that’s not an endorsement, I don’t know what is!

Case in point–his move to abandon to the mercies of the courts Gensler’s cretinous, pointless, and incredibly burdensome climate reporting rule. (I use that Sierra Club link to provide some levity. I love the smell of hysterical panic in the morning).

Atkins is also largely reversing GiGi’s anti-crypto agenda. (Well, he is a “crypto peddler” after all, at least according to the Sierra Club!) I am not a crypto evangelist by any means, but broadly support letting consenting adults trade what they want to trade. The regulatory framework for such trading should focus on legitimate investor protection, anti-fraud, and anti-manipulation measures as set out in the SEC’s authorizing statutes. That’s what Atkins’ SEC is striving to do, in contrast to Gensler’s mission to strangle crypto at every opportunity.

In crypto, but more generally, Atkins is also moving sharply away from Gensler’s regulation by enforcement approach, which is another welcome change.

And hot off the presses, Atkins has taken aim at the bloated and (IMO) pointless Consolidated Audit Trail. (Seriously–I found the above announcement while Googling “Atkins CAT” while writing this post. It came out hours before I put pixels to screen). Proposed in the aftermath of the 2010 Flash Crash, it always struck me as a hugely expensive solution to a non-existent problem. Yes, the CAT could assist in forensic evaluations of market events like the Flash Crash and market manipulation, but having worked on such evaluations in markets lacking the CAT, and reading the analyses of others, I conclude it is possible to carry out these analyses without CAT. Put differently, the marginal benefit of the CAT is minuscule relative to the cost.

One issue that has received less attention outside the equity trading community is market structure, and particularly RegNMS. The 20th anniversary of that regulation was the occasion for an SEC conference to reevaluate that regulation. (At the time of the passage of RegNMS, I wrote an article saying that it marked the 30 Years War over market structure that began with the 1975 Securities Act, and wryly suggested that there would actually be a 100 Years War over market structure. We are now at the halfway mark!)

Along with several participants, Atkins criticized a key provision of RegNMS–the so-called “trade through rule” that prevents the execution of a trade on one exchange when a better price is displayed on another. Atkins favors elimination of the rule.

This rule is the keystone of RegNMS, and its removal would reshape the equity exchange environment as thoroughly as the regulation did 20 years ago. Indeed, its elimination would signal that the entire experiment was ill-conceived.

As I wrote in my Regulation Magazine piece, the trade through rule was the “centerpiece” of RegNMS. Its very purpose was to cause a fundamental restructuring of equity trading in the US. And it did.

As I phrased it, the purpose of the rule was to “socialize order flow.” That is, eliminate–or at least sharply circumscribe–the control that an exchange had over the order flow directed to it. The objective of this was to make the exchange landscape more competitive, and specifically to reduce the market power of the NYSE and NASDAQ. At the time of RegNMS’s passage, the NYSE executed 80 percent of the volume of shares listed on it.

Evaluated against its stated objective, RegNMS was a . . .

The equity trading landscape looks nothing like it did in 2005 or before. More than half of trades are executed off exchange. The remainder is divided among 12 exchanges, with the largest having a 10 percent market share:

But to Atkins and the critics of the trade through rule, this represents not great success, but great failure. To the critics, this fragmentation is deleterious.

That is, one man’s competition is another man’s fragmentation.

The post-RegNMS environment has clearly seen dramatic improvements in liquidity and declines in trading costs. This is plausibly, though not definitively, materially the result of increased competition. Moreover, the exchanges have adopted different order types, pricing rules (e.g., taker-maker/inverted v. maker-taker), and trading infrastructures. This means that heterogeneous market participants can choose among heterogeneous platforms, thereby achieving a better match than a one-size-fits-all system would.

The main disadvantage of fragmentation–and a major source of discontent–is that brokers and traders must connect to a variety of platforms, and crucially, must buy data from each. As I wrote some years ago, this creates strong complementarity among the data streams that exchanges provide, which as Cournot demonstrated two centuries ago creates considerable market power which inflates prices. Data is expensive, and economics implies it is too expensive.

What would happen if the trade through rule is abolished? I predict that by effectively re-privatizing order flow it would lead to a massive consolidation of trading venues, and a return to a market structure resembling that of 2004 and before. Less fragmentation, but less competition. Those are essentially two sides of the same coin.

The busy Mr. Atkins has also weighed in on the issue of the frequency of corporate reporting, favoring (fast-tracking, actually) the elimination of the quarterly reporting requirement. Since Trump proposed the same, of course this has led to shrieks and wails–which have been markedly absent when Warren Buffet mooted the idea.

Here’s another issue where I support letting the market decide, as is typically the case when there are trade-offs. Reporting frequency has costs and benefits. A company that provides too little information largely internalizes the cost, in the form of a lower stock price. That is to say, its shareholders internalize the cost. Yes, agency problems mean that managers who make disclosure decisions may act against the interest of shareholders and disclose too little or too infrequently, but that is a problem that is inherent in the corporate form (and the consequent “separation of ownership and control”) that manifests itself in many ways that are not the subject of government mandates and intricate regulations. It’s hard to see why corporate disclosure should be different. Yes, punish false disclosures, but don’t dictate how often companies must avoid lying.

One concern in recent years has been the large number of companies deciding to go private or remain private (rather than IPO’ing). There are myriad reasons companies make these choices, but one of them is the cost of being subject to the reporting obligations imposed on public companies. Easing those obligations somewhat would nudge more companies toward going/remaining public, meaning that the amount of information available to investors and the opportunities available to them might increase if the Trump/Atkins proposal goes into effect.

Overall, Atkins is a welcome relief. Though anyone probably would have been, after Gensler’s Reign of Error (and Terror). I’m ambivalent about his hostility to the trade through rule, but on non-market structure matters he is moving in the right–and pro-market–direction.

The structure of financial market regulation has been a source of dissatisfaction since at least the time of the birth of the SEC in the 1930s, and maybe even dating back to the first regulation of futures markets in 1922. Don Wilson of DRW is only the latest of those to express this dissatisfaction.

Since derivatives markets first emerged from their niche in the commodities, and especially agricultural commodities, a lot of the criticism has focused on the bifurcated nature of US regulation, with separate securities and derivatives regulators, the SEC and the CFTC respectively. Why not just have one regulator given the substantial overlaps between securities and derivatives markets? Whereas previous “reform” proposals have been to merge the agencies, Wilson suggests scrapping them both and creating a new unified regulator.

This idea is a hardy perennial and has always struck me as mere org chart shuffling, or furniture rearranging. And that’s the best case. Worse outcomes are very possible.

For one thing, the relevant laws–the Securities and Exchange Acts, and the Commodity Exchange Act–would remain in place, with one commission in charge of implementing both. Many of the conflicts, tensions, and contradictions involving the SEC and the CFTC are rooted in the underlying laws, and would remain post-merger (or replacement with a super agency). The conflicts would become intramural rather than intermural as it were, but would not go away.

For another, I generally favor functional regulation and given the myriad functions of financial markets and institutions subsuming all regulatory oversight to a single agency may well impede functional specialization.

The SEC already represents a good example. In broad strokes the Securities Act relates to securities issuers (e.g., disclosures) and the Exchange Act relates to the trading of securities. Those are two very different functions and only tangentially related. Yet a single regulator oversees both.

The CFTC also has authority over trading per se on some venues.

Both agencies have authority over intermediaries (e.g., broker-dealers, FCMs) and clearing.

Maybe there would be some reasonable rationale for splitting off regulation of issuers from regulation of trading, trading intermediaries, and clearing, and putting these last three in a single silo. But even that is problematic due to path dependence.

We are not starting with a blank slate. The pre-existing statutory division is one historic fact. Another is that derivatives and securities markets have evolved very differently, and that could very much reflect the longstanding regulatory bifurcation.

Is it desirable to move toward uniformity in how derivatives and securities markets are organized and governed, and in essence ignore the historical process that created the current market structures? That’s not immediately obvious given how wrenching and unpredictable the process of achieving uniformity would be–and how rife the unexpected consequences would be.

Moreover, how would the political economy work? There’s no guarantee that the politics of a unified regulator would lead to a more efficient regulatory structure.

Indeed, to me it’s more likely that that rent seeking would rule, and efficiency would be damned. There’s actually a strong argument to be made that competition between regulatory agencies disciplines the rent seeking to some degree. And it can also discipline the ideological fervor of someone like Gary Gensler.

The ongoing drama over crypto regulation is an example. I’m not a crypto evangelist by any means but overall I favor letting market processes determine the outcome. If GiGi was king, or even merely the sole regulator of crypto, that would never happen. Regulatory competition (with the CFTC) constrained Gensler and the SEC, so the market will have the chance to have the final vote.

Indeed, one of Don Wilson’s beefs is very specifically with Gary Gensler. (And oh boy, do I get that!) A regulatory structure with one regulator would make some future GiGi far more dangerous.

Why should regulatory monopoly be looked upon more favorably than private monopoly? Indeed, regulatory monopoly is more dangerous because it cannot be disciplined or undermined by entry. Only the naive who believe in the public interest theory of regulation (and regulators) could believe that a single regulator would act to enhance efficiency rather than exploit its power for often malign reasons.

I have often written that there is a multitude of ways for executing financial transactions that have some common elements because transactors and transactions are heterogeneous. One size does not fit all. (Gensler was something of a one size fits all fanatic at the CFTC). Even though any division will lead to anomalies, conflicts, and regulatory arbitrage, there is enough distinctiveness between say derivatives markets on the one hand and security markets on the other to make separate regulators a better outcome. The division of labor is limited by the extent of the market. The scope of financial markets is so huge that there is considerable division of labor in them, and a division of regulatory labor makes considerable sense too.

Further, although the term “regulatory arbitrage” is typically used as a pejorative, it is not necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, it can be a good thing when market participants use regulatory fragmentation to introduce beneficial innovations that a particular regulator would prevent.

It should also not be forgotten that the SEC and the CFTC are not the only regulatory players in this game. The banking regulators and the Fed are also quite involved, especially on issues relating to intermediaries (who are banks or deeply enmeshed in the banking system) and clearing. Some regulatory fragmentation is inevitable as a result. Just mashing together the SEC and the CFTC will not make the fragmentation disappear.

I say only slightly facetiously that the best effect of regulatory consolidation is that reduced specialization would increase the cost of regulation, leading to less of it. There are no economies of scale, and are in fact diseconomies of scale, at the commissioner level. The bandwidth of the commissioners who are the final arbiters of rules is limited. As a rough estimate, a single commission responsible for double the statutes will have the capacity to produce half the rules as two commissions would. Sounds good to me!

(And no, doubling the number of commissioners would not help. Each commissioner has to weigh in on each proposed rule).

(Less factiously, doubling the workload would empower staff as commissioners would be more reliant on staff to craft rules, and explain them, so rule “output” might not decline that much as the commissioners just end up spending less time on each proposal).

Proposing agency merger or creation of a super agency is almost always a symptom of overall dissatisfaction with regulatory outcomes. But those bad outcomes are usually the result of bad regulators or bad underlying statutes. As noted above, consolidating regulators would increase the power of the bad regulators who will inevitably come along, so be careful what you ask for. And redrawing the regulatory org chart won’t address the statutory problems.

So if you don’t like current regulatory outcomes, don’t focus on the number of agencies and the names on the buildings they occupy: focus on the laws that determine what regulators can do and how they can do it.

Frankendodd was full of bad things, so start with that. Go to a slimmer legal framework that focuses on force and fraud rather than one that attempts to micromanage market macrostructure. Work towards a framework that disempowers would be Gary Genslers rather than the reverse.

Recent Supreme Court decisions, especially Loper, will help by constraining the ability of regulators to go beyond the authority explicitly delegated to regulators by statute. But many of the delegated powers are already too broad, so that needs to be addressed too.

In sum, to fix regulation it is necessary to get to its roots. Its roots are in legislation. Shuffling around who implements the legislative mandates is a superficial response to a deeper problem that originates in the Capitol.

PS. My friend Jeff Carter has a Substack on the same issue. Check it out.

Michael Lewis is out with a book on Sam Bankman-Fried and FTX–just in time for SBF’s trial! What great timing!

I am sure that when Lewis started the project, he did not anticipate that he would have to use the trial of the person whom he had intended to be the hero of his story to turn the FTX lemon into marketing lemonade. But so he has.

Lewis was interviewed by 60 Minutes Last week, where he offered this gem:

This isn’t a Ponzi scheme. In this case, they actually had a great, real business. If no one had ever cast aspersions on the business, if there hadn’t been a run on customer deposits, they’d still be sitting there making tons of money.

Other than that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln? Or, if it wasn’t for that damned Russian winter Napoleon’s descendants would still be ruling France!

Where to begin? First, Ponzi schemes are not the only form of financial fraud so by rejecting that FTX was a Ponzi he does not prove it was not a fraud. Second, and more importantly, this begs the question of why there was a run. Did the customers just decide to run on a whim? Or maybe it was sunspots (a la last year’s Nobel winners Diamond and Dybvig)!

Yeah, sunspots, that’s it. Other than that, SBF would be sitting fat and happy. (Though mainly fat–he’s lost weight in the pokey.)

Uhm, no, actually, aberrations in the sunspot cycle didn’t spark a collective frenzy by depositors. The simple fact is that SBF was using customer monies for all sorts of purposes, ranging from funding a lavish lifestyle for himself (and his loathsome parents) to covering losses at the FTX-affiliated hedge fund (the very existence of which should have been the first red flag). The “aspersions” cast upon “the business” were basically factual revelations that “the business” was a financial disaster that used customer monies in violation of laws, duties, customs, and promises.

In other words, there was a run for the reason that there are usually runs: the customers of an entity operating on first-come, first-serve basis learned that said entity was financially suspect. Get your money, and let the devil take the hindmost.

And as for “great real business”–apparently not only did Michael Lewis drink deep from the crypto Kool Aid, he’s still binging on it. There were numerous reasons to be skeptical about crypto since it began (and I expressed skepticism from virtually the time of its emergence about a decade ago), and the dubiousness of the entire endeavor has only deepened. To claim that crypto exchanges were viable businesses that would make “tons of money” on an ongoing basis is utterly delusional.

The simple fact is that Michael Lewis is a deeply, deeply, deeply compromised narrator here. He was “embedded” in FTX for months. He had unparalleled access to the chubby wunderkind. And then the whole thing imploded in scandal.

Meaning that Michael Lewis has to–has to–make his would-be hero SBF a tragic one, wrongly and unjustly brought down by powers beyond his control. For consider the alternatives.

The first is that Michael Lewis had a front row seat to a massive fraud, and that he–the alleged eagle eyed chronicler of the corruption, shenanigans, misdeeds, and absurdities of mainstream finance (investment banks, the stock market, etc.)–missed what was going on in front of his very eyes.

The second is that Lewis knew something was wrong, or at least suspected it, and remained silent.

The first alternative would be a major blow to Lewis’ credibility and reputation. The second would basically make him an accessory to a major crime.

To escape this dilemma, Lewis must insist–and demand that you believe him, and not your lyin’ eyes–that there was nothing wrong at FTX. Indeed, everything was right at FTX, except shit happened. Or something. Given his massive conflict of interest, Lewis’ arguments are utterly untrustworthy, and smacking of special pleading.

I have heard it said that SBF fooled a lot of people, so you need to cut Lewis some slack. Uhm, no. If your whole shtick is your financial gnosticism, your unique ability to perceive and interpret the greedy, grubby, self-interested behavior of financial market denizens, “I wuz fooled just like everybody else” doesn’t cut it when a greedy, grubby, self-interested shlub ran his scheme in front of your very nose.

It is quite clear what has happened here. Lewis’ well-worn–but quite lucrative–MO is to pick out some misfit hero or heroes fighting against the financial Man, and make him/her/them the protagonist of a just so story. Misfit David vs. Goliath.

SBF was to all appearances a gift to Lewis from the literary Gods. Crypto was the vanguard in a supposed revolution against the traditional financial system and institutions that Lewis had inveighed against for years. SBF fit the quirky misfit role to a “T.” He also talked in lofty phrases about his effective altruism, his lack of personal financial motivation, and his desire to use the wealth generated by his genius to make the world a better place.

It had the makings of the Michael Lewis book to top all Michael Lewis books, and SBF to be the hero of all Michael Lewis heroes.

And then it all went horribly, horribly wrong.

So what’s Michael Lewis to do? Since the elites (which includes Michael Lewis) don’t do mea culpas, let alone retire to a monastery, the only thing he could do–spin like a dreidel.

It is immensely amusing to me that Lewis clearly doesn’t understand the fundamental absurdity of his arguments. If you are really a crypto true believer, which Lewis clearly is, it is because you believe that a trust-based financial system is fundamentally flawed, and that trustless crypto is the answer. But Lewis also argues that FTX’s “great real [crypto] business” failed due to an irrational loss of trust. Both of those things cannot be true.

So Lewis has jumped the shark here. But due to his spinning, and his existing reputation, it is quite likely that’s a bad thing–but only because it means that the shark won’t eat him, as would be a just outcome.

I criticized Lewis’ Flash Boys when it came out 9+ years ago, so I have been a skeptic for a long time. But I have nothing on Scott Locklin, who wrote this in the immediate aftermath of the FTX implosion (and who also ridiculed Lewis’ Flash Boys). Locklin makes me look like a milquetoast. Definitely worth a read

Bank failures tend to come in waves, and we are experiencing at least a mini-wave now.

Banks fail for three basic reasons: 1. Credit transformation: deterioration in borrower creditworthiness, usually due to an adverse economic shock (e.g., a real estate bust). 2. Maturity transformation: borrowing short, lending long, and then getting hammered when interest rates rise. 3. Liquidity transformation combined with an exogenous liquidity shock, a la Diamond-Dybvig, where idiosyncratic depositor needs for cash lead to withdrawals that exceed liquid assets and therefore trigger fire sales of illiquid assets.

The two most notable failures of late–Silicon Valley Bank and Silvergate–are examples of 2 and 3 respectively.

In some respects, SVB is the most astounding. Not because a bank failed in the old fashioned way, but because it was funded primarily by the deposits of supposed financial sophisticates–and because of the disgusting policy response of the Treasury and the Fed.

SVB took in oodles of cash, especially in the past couple of years. The cashcade was so immense that SVB could not find enough traditional banking business (loans) to soak it up, so they bought lots of Treasuries. And long duration Treasuries to boot.

And then Powell and the Fed applied the boot, jacking up rates. Bonds have cratered in the last year, and took SVB’s balance sheet with it.

Again, an old story. And hardly a harbinger of systemic risk–unless such reckless maturity mismatches are systemic.

SVB was the Banker to the Silicon Valley Stars, notably VCs and tech firms. These firms are the ones who deposited immense sums in exchange for a pittance of return. Case in point, Roku, put almost $500 million–yes, you read that right, 9 figures led with a 5–into SVB!!!

I mean: WTFF? Was the Treasurer a moron? For who other than a moron would hold that much in cash in a single institution? (Roku claims its devices “make your home a smarter.” Maybe they should have hired a smarter treasurer and CFO, or replaced them with one of its devices). Hell, why is a company holding that much in cash period?

A few of these alleged masters of the universe (like Palantir) saw the writing on the wall and yanked their deposits: deposits fell by a quarter on Friday alone, sealing the bank’s doom. Those who were slow to run howled to the high heavens over the weekend that if there was not a bailout there would be a holocaust in the tech sector.

Even though the systemic risk posed by SVB’s failure is nil (or if not, then every bank is systemically important), the Treasury Department and the Fed responded to these howls and guaranteed all the deposits–even though the FDIC’s formal deposit insurance limit is $250,000. You know, .05 percent of Roku’s deposit.

When evaluating this, one cannot ignore the reality that the Democratic Party is completely beholden to Silicon Valley. This is beyond scandalous.

Occupy Silicon Valley, anyone?

Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen insulted our intelligence by assuring us this is not a bailout. Well, it’s not a taxpayer bailout, strictly speaking, because the Treasury is not providing the backstop. Instead, it is being funded by a “special assessment” on solvent banks. Which are owned and funded by people who also pay taxes. And such an “assessment” is a tax in everything but name–because it is a contribution by private entities compelled by the government.

The policy implications of this are disastrous. The whole problem with such bailouts is moral hazard. What is to stop banks from engaging in such reckless behavior as SVB did if they can obtain seemingly unlimited funding from those who know that they will be bailed out if things go pear-shaped?

And the regulatory failure here demonstrates that bank regulation–despite the supposed “reforms” of Frankendodd–can’t even catch or constrain the oldest bet-the-bank strategy in the book. Free banking–no deposit insurance, no bailing out of depositors–couldn’t do worse, and would likely do better.

No, the failure of SVB is not the scandal here. The scandal is the political response to it. This reveals yet again how captured the government is. This time not by Wall Street, but by tech companies and oligarchs that are currently the primary source of Democratic political funding.

A couple of weeks ago the Silvergate story looked juicy, but SVB has put it in the shade. Silvergate also grew dramatically, but on the back of crypto rather than SV tech. It became the main banker for many crypto firms and entrepreneurs. The crypto meltdown did not affect Silvergate directly, but it did crush its depositors, the aforesaid crypto firms and entrepreneurs. They withdrew a lot of funding, and an old fashioned liquidity mismatch did it in.

In traditional banks, deposit funding is “sticky.” Banks that rely on wholesale funding (“hot money”) are more vulnerable to runs. Silvergate’s funding was not traditional sticky deposit funding, nor was it hot money per se. It was money that was pretty cool as long as crypto was cool, and became hot once crypto melted down.

A run started, but the run was precipitated by a liquidity shock. Simple story, really.

Silvergate’s failure was not a scandal. SVB’s failure per se was not a scandal (except to the extent that our vaunted banking regulators failed to prevent the most prosaic type of failure).

Again–the scandal is the politically tainted response that will have baleful consequences in the future, as the response virtually guarantees that there will be more SVBs in the future.

As day follows night, the vaporization of FTX has spurred calls for regulation of crypto markets. Well, what kind of regulation, exactly? It matters.

It appears highly likely that SBF and his Merry Gang (of pervy druggies?) broke oodles of laws, in multiple jurisdictions. Class action lawsuits are definitely incoming, and the DOJ’s SDNY attorneys’ office is commencing a criminal investigation. No doubt criminal investigations will follow in other locations. So what would more laws accomplish, and what kind of laws and regulations would help?

It is interesting to note that SBF was going around DC and the media talking up regulating the industry, and winning effusive plaudits (but not from CZ!) for doing so, but his proposals didn’t come within a million miles of his alleged wrongdoing. I’m sure you’re shocked.

On CNBC, Bankman-Fried endorsed three regulatory endeavors: stablecoin auditing, “markets regulation” of spot trading, and token registration (at about the 4:30 mark):

None of which touches on the fundamental issue in the FTX fiasco, and in crypto market structure generally: the role of “exchanges” in supplying broker dealer and banking services, including liquidity, maturity, and credit transformations.

No doubt SBF was adding to his savior glow by pushing regulation that he knew was utterly irrelevant to the core of his business (and the business of all other crypto “exchanges”). And look at how many suckers fell for it.

So what would help? As I noted at the outset, FTX, Bankman-Fried, et al likely violated numerous laws. So what additional laws would reduce the likelihood and severity of such actions?

In thinking about this, remembering the distinction between ex ante and ex post regulation is important. Ex post regulation involves the imposition of sanctions on malfeasors after they have been found to have committed offense: the idea is to deter bad conduct through punishment after the fact. In contrast, ex ante regulation attempts to prevent bad acts by imposing various constraints on potential wrongdoers.

The choice between ex ante and ex post depends on a variety of factors. Two of the most important (and related) are whether the bad actor is judgment proof (i.e., will have the resources to recompense those he has harmed) and the probability of detection. (These are related because a low probability of detection requires a higher penalty to achieve deterrence, but a higher penalty increases the chances that the wrongdoer is judgment proof).

In the case of things like what has apparently happened here, the probability of detection is high (1.00 actually), but the magnitude of the harm is so great and the (negative) correlation between the harm and the wrongdoer’s ability to pay is so high (essentially -1.00) that ex post deterrence is problematic.

(Judgment proof-ness is actually a justification for criminal law and the use of incarceration as punishment. Deterrence through fines doesn’t work with broke bad guys, so non-monetary punishment is necessary–but often not sufficient!)

So there is a case for ex ante regulation here, just as there is a case for ex ante regulation of banks and intermediaries like broker dealers and FCMs. Banking examiners, regulatory audits, customer seg rules, and the like.

But these are obviously not panaceas. Bank fraud still occurs with depressing regularity, and the things that facilitate it, like valuation challenges, accounting shenanigans, and so on, occur in spades in crypto. And, even in highly regulated US markets, violation of seg rules and misuse of customer assets occurs: yeah, I’m looking at you John Corzine/MF Global.

The big problems in crypto markets are essentially agency problems, especially since the crucial agents–crypto “exchanges”–are so concentrated and so vertically integrated into both execution and various forms of financial transformations.

Ex ante regulation focused on such issues could be a boon, and could help stabilize crypto markets generally. The spillovers we are seeing from FTX’s vaporization are essentially a reputational contagion: the mini (so far) runs on other “exchanges” reflect FUD about their probity and solvency. (NB: Binance, as the biggest “exchange,” and as opaque as FTX, is a serious run risk. BlockFi and AAX may already be in the crosshairs here: glitch in the systems upgrade. Riiiiigggghhhht.)

The challenge is that the demise of financial intermediaries is well-described by a famous Hemingway quote:

“How did you go bankrupt?” Bill asked. “Two ways,” Mike said. “Gradually, then suddenly.”

An intermediary can go along swimmingly, meeting all seg requirements and the like, and a big market move or bad bet or an operational SNAFU can put it on the brink very suddenly–and encourage gambling for resurrection by using customer funds to extend and pretend. So don’t expect such regulation to be a panacea, and prevent the recurrence of FTXs. Regulation or no, this happens with intermediaries that engage in liquidity, maturity, and credit transformations that are inherently fragile. (And may be fragile by design, as Doug Diamond has pointed out.)

On the regulation issue, one fascinating sidebar is my old bête noire, Gary Gensler. You don’t need to play 6 Degrees From SBF to ensnare most of the Democratic establishment: one or two degrees will do, and Gensler definitely qualifies.

In addition to the MIT connection, Gensler apparently had other interactions with Bankman-Fried. And of course Gensler is a player in the Democratic Party (he was Hillary’s campaign’s finance chair, after all), and Bankman-Fried was a major Dem donor (second largest after Soros in the most recent cycle, and he had talked about spending up to a billion in the 2024 campaign).

Questions have been raised.

When initially questioned about FTX, Gensler was very defensive:  “Building the evidence, building the facts often takes time.”

I am reserving judgment, but I hope someone takes the time to examine the links and interactions between SBF/FTX and Gensler (and other DC creatures)–and build the evidence and facts, if it comes to that.

My guess is that Gensler will try to pull a judo move and use this fiasco as a justification for expanding the power of the SEC. Indeed, I expect him to be in high dudgeon precisely to deflect attention from his (and his party’s) links to SBF. Don’t let him get away with it.

And don’t think that these links can be exposed through a FOIA. Gensler has long been known for using his private email to conduct official business. (Which is precisely why I didn’t bother FOAI-ing him years ago regarding my suspicions of his interactions with David Kocieniewski.) So deeper digging is required, and it should commence, post haste.

Another blizzard hit the winter-bound crypto industry, with the evisceration of crypto wonder boy Sam Bankman-Fried’s (SBF to crypto kiddies) FTX and its associated hedge fund Alameda Capital. (Which should be renamed Alameda No Capital.) The coup coup de grâce was delivered by SBF’s former frenemy (now full fledged enemy), Binance’s Changpeng Zhao (CZ, ditto). But it is now evident that FTX was a Rube Goldberg monstrosity and all CZ did was remove–call into question, really–one piece of the contraption which led to its failure.

The events bring out in sharp detail many crucial aspects of the crypto landscape. (I won’t say “ecosystem”–a nauseating word.).

One is crypto market structure. FTX (and Binance for that matter) are commonly referred to as “exchanges,” giving rise to thoughts of the CME or NYSE. But they are much more than that. FTX (and other crypto “exchanges”) are in fact highly integrated financial institutions that combine the functions of trade execution platform (an exchange qua exchange), a broker dealer/FCM, clearinghouse, and custodian. And in FTX’s case, it also was affiliated with a massive crypto-focused hedge fund, the aforementioned Alameda.

Crucially, as part of its broker dealer/FCM operation, FTX engaged in margin lending to customers. Indeed, it permitted very high leverage:

FTX offers high leverage products and tokens. The exchange currently offers 20x maximum leverage, down from its previous 101x leverage products. This is still one of the highest maximum leverage a crypto exchange offers when compared to FTX’s other competitors. Leveraged long and short tokens for BTC, ETH, MATIC, and others are also offered by the exchange; for example, the ETHBULL token allows investors to trade a 3x long position in Ethereum.

FTX also engaged in the equivalent of securities lending: it lent out the BTC, etc., that customers held in their accounts there.

These are traditional broker dealer functions, and historically they are functions that have led to the collapse of such firms–more on that below.

FTX supersized the risks of these activities through one of its funding mechanisms, the FTT token. Ostensibly the benefits of owning FTT were reduced trading fees on the exchange, “airdrops” (a distribution of “free” tokens to those holding sufficient quantities on account with FTX, a promise to return a certain fraction of trading revenues to token holders by repurchasing (“burning”), and some limited governance/voting rights. The burning also served the function of limiting supply. (I plan to write a separate post on the economics of valuation of these tokens, though I do touch on some issues below.)

So FTT is (or should I say “was”?) stock-not-stock. Not a listed security, but an instrument that paid dividends in various forms.

FTT was in some ways the snowman here. For one thing, FTX allowed customers to post margin in FTT.

Huh, whut?

Risky collateral is always problematic. (Look at the reluctance of counterparties to accept anything but cash as collateral even from pension funds as in the UK.) Allowing posting of your own liability as collateral is more than problematic–it is insane. Very Enron-y!

Why? A subject I’ve written on a lot in the past: wrong way risk.

If for any reason FTT goes down, the value of collateral posted by customers goes down. Which means that your assets (loans to customers) go down in value.

A doom machine, in other words.

The integrated structure of FTX exacerbated this risk, and bigly. If customers start to get nervous about its viability, they start to pull the assets (BTC, ETH, etc.) they have on account there. Which is a problem if you’ve lent them out! (Recall that AIG’s biggest problem wasn’t CDS, but securities lending.)

And this has happened, with customers attempting to pull billions from the firm, and FTX therefore being forced to stop withdrawals.

And things can get even worse. The travails of a big broker dealer can impact prices, not just of its liabilities like FTT but of assets generally (stocks and bonds in a traditional market, crypto here) and given the posting of risky assets of collateral that can make the collateral shortfalls even worse. Fire sale effects are one reason for these price movements. In the case of crypto, the failure of a major crypto firm calls into question the viability of the asset class generally, with some of them being affected particularly acutely.

The integrated structure of crypto firms is also a problem. Customer assets are held in omnibus accounts, not segregated ones. Yeah yeah crypto firms say your assets on account are yours, but that’s true in a bookkeeping sense only. They are held in a pool. This structure incentivizes customers to run when the firm looks shaky. Which can turn looks into reality. That’s what has happened to FTX.

The connection with a hedge fund trading crypto is also a big problem. (The blow up of hedge funds operated by big banks was a harbinger of the GFC in August, 2008, recall.). And it is increasingly apparent that this was a major issue with FTX that interacted with the factors mentioned above. FTX evidently lent large amounts–$16 billion!–of customer assets to Alameda Research. Apparently to prop it up after huge losses in the first blizzards of Crypto Winter. (In retrospect, SBF’s buying binge earlier this year looks like gambling for resurrection.)

SBF described this as “a poor judgment call.”

You don’t say! I hear that’s what Napoleon said while trudging back from Russia in November 1812. Probably Custer’s last words, but we’ll never know!

Also probably an illegal judgment call.

But it gets better! Alameda held large quantities of FTT, also apparently emergency funding provided by FTX. And it used billions of FTT as collateral for its trades and borrowing.

And this was the string that CZ pulled that caused the whole thing to unravel. When he announced that he had learned of Alameda’s large FTT position, and that as a result he was selling FTT the doom machine kicked into operation, and at hyper speed: doom occurred within days.

Looking at this in the immediate aftermath, my thought was that FTX was basically MF Global with an exchange operation. A financially fragile broker dealer combined with an exchange.

Think of MF Global operating an exchange.

— streetwiseprof (@streetwiseprof) November 8, 2022

And the analogy was even closer than I knew: FTX’s using customer assets to “fund risky bets” revealed this morning is also exactly what MF Global did. Except that Corzine was a piker by comparison. He filched almost exactly only 1/10th of what FTX did ($1.6 billion vs. $16 billion). (Maybe SBF should take comfort from the fact that Corzine walks free–though I don’t recommend that he walk free at LaSalle and Jackson or Wacker and Adams). (I further note that SBF is a huge Democrat donor. Like Corzine, his political connections may save him from the pokey, though by all appearances he should spend a very long stretch there.)

In sum, FTX’s implosion is just a crypto-flavored example of the collapse of an intermediary the likes of which has been seen multiple times over the (literally) centuries. As I’ve written before, there is nothing new under the financial sun.

The episode also throws a harsh light on the supposed novelty of crypto. Remember, the crypto narrative is that crypto is decentralized, and does not rely on trusted institutions: it is trustless in other words.

Wrong! As I’ve written before, economic forces lead to centralization and intermediation in crypto markets, just as in traditional financial markets. Market participants utilize the services of firms like FTX and Binance, and have to trust that those firms are acting prudently. If that trust is lost, disaster ensues.

In brief, crypto trading could be decentralized, but it isn’t. For reasons I wrote about years ago. (Also see here.)

Indeed, the issue is arguably even more acute in crypto markets, for a reason that SBF himself laid out in now infamous interview with Matt Levine on Odd Lots. Specifically, that token valuation relies on magic–belief, actually.

That is, tokens are valuable if people believe they are valuable–that is, if they have trust in their value. Furthermore, there is a sort of information cascade logic that can create market value: if people see that a token sells at a positive price–especially if it sells at a very large positive price–and they observe that supposedly smart people hold it, they conclude it must have some intrinsic value. So they pile in, increasing the value, validating beliefs, and extending the information cascade.

But this is Tinker Bell economics. If people stop believing, Tinker Bell dies.

And when someone very influential like CZ says “I don’t believe” death is rapid: the information cascade stops, then reverses. Especially given how FTT was the keystone of the FTX arch.

In brief, crypto theory is completely different than crypto reality. Crypto markets share all major features with the demonized traditional “trust-based” financial system. To the extent they differ, they are even more based on trust, given the ubiquity of Token Tinker Bell Economics.

Gary Gensler has long lusted to get his regulatory hooks into cryptocurrency. To do so as head of the SEC, he has to find a way to transform crypto (e.g., Bitcoin, Ether, various tokens) into securities, as defined under laws dating from the 1930s. Although Gensler has stated that crypto regulation is a long way off–presumably because it is no mean feat to jam an innovation of the 2010s into a regulatory framework of the 1930s–he thinks that he may have found a way to get at the second largest crypto, Ether.

Gensler pictured here:

Sorry! Sorry! Understandable mistake! Here’s his actual image:

Ether just switched from a “proof of work” model–the model employed by Bitcoin–to a “proof of stake” model. Gensler recently said that Ether may therefore qualify as a security under the Howey test, established in a 1946 Supreme Court decision–handed down when computers filled large rooms, had no memory, and caused the lights to dim in entire cities when they were powered up.

Per Gensler:

Securities and Exchange Commission Chairman Gary Gensler said Thursday that cryptocurrencies and intermediaries that allow holders to “stake” their coins might pass a key test used by courts to determine whether an asset is a security. Known as the Howey test, it examines whether investors expect to earn a return from the work of third parties. 

“From the coin’s perspective…that’s another indicia that under the Howey test, the investing public is anticipating profits based on the efforts of others,” Mr. Gensler told reporters after a congressional hearing. He said he wasn’t referring to any specific cryptocurrency. 

To call that a stretch is an understatement. A huge one. Because the function of proof of stake is entirely different than the function of a security.

Proof of work and proof of stake are alternative ways of operating an anonymous, trustless crypto currency. As I’ve written in several pieces here and elsewhere, eliminating the need for trusted institutions to guarantee transactions does not come for free. Those tempted to defraud must incur a cost if they do in order to be deterred. A performance bond sacrificed on non-performance or deceit is a common way to do that. Proofs of stake and work both are effectively performance bonds. With proof of work, a “miner” incurs a cost (electricity, computing resources) to get the right to add blocks to the blockchain: if a majority of other miners don’t concur with the proposal, the block is not validated, the proposing miner gets no reward, and sacrifices the expenditure required to make the proposal. Proof of stake is a more traditional sort of bond: you lose your stake if your proposal is rejected.

A security is something totally different, and serves a completely different function. (NB. I favor the “functional model of regulation” proposed by Merton many years ago. Regulation should be based on function, not institution.). The function of a security is to raise capital with a marketable instrument that can be bought and sold by third parties at mutually agreed upon prices.

So with a lot of squinting, you can say that both securities and staking mechanism involve “the efforts of others,” but to effect completely different purposes and functions. The fundamental difference in function/purpose means that even if they have something in common, they are totally different and the regulatory framework for one is totally inappropriate to the regulation of the other.

This illustrates an issue that I often come across in my work on commodities, securities, and antitrust litigation: the common confusion of sufficient and necessary conditions. Arguably profiting from the efforts of others could be a necessary condition to be considered a security. It is not, however, a sufficient condition–as Gensler is essentially advocating.

But what’s logic when there’s a regulatory empire to build, right?

I’m also at a loss to explain how Gensler could think that proof of stake involves the “efforts” (i.e., work) of others, but proof of, you know, work doesn’t.

Gensler’s “logic” would probably even embarrass Sir Bedevere:

“What also floats in water?” “A security!”

Gensler might have more of a leg to stand on when it comes to tokens. But with Bitcoin, Ether, and other similar things, hammering the crypto peg into the securities law hole is idiotic.

But never let logic stand in the way of Gary’s pursuit of his precious:

GiGi is not solely focused on crypto of course. He has many preciouses. This week the SEC released a proposed rule to mandate clearing of many cash Treasury trades.

Clearing of course has always been a mania of Gary’s. His deep affection for me no doubt dates from my extensive writing on his Ahab-like pursuit of clearing mandates in derivatives more than a decade ago. Clearing is Gensler’s hammer, and he sees in every financial problem a nail to be driven.

The problem at issue here is the periodic episodes of large price moves and illiquidity in the Treasury market in recent years, most notably in March 2020 (the subject of a JACF article by me).

Clearing is a mechanism to mitigate counterparty credit risk. There is no evidence, nor reasonable basis to believe, that counterparty credit risk precipitated these episodes, or that these episodes (whatever their cause) raised the risk of a chain reaction via a counterparty credit risk channel in cash Treasuries.

Moreover, as I have said ad nauseum, clearing and the associated margining mechanism is a major potential source of financial instability.

Indeed, as I point out in the JACF article, clearing and margin in Treasury futures and other fixed income securities markets is what threatened to turn the price (and basis) movement sparked by Covid (and policy responses to Covid) into a systemic event that required Fed intervention to prevent.

I note that as I discussed at the time, margining also contributed greatly to the instability surrounding the GameStop fiasco.

Meaning that in the name of promoting financial market stability Gensler and the SEC (the vote on the proposal was unanimous) are in fact expanding the use of the very mechanism that exacerbated the problem they are allegedly addressing.

Like the Bourbons, Gensler has learned nothing, and forgotten nothing. He has not forgotten his misbegotten notions of the consequences of clearing, and hasn’t learned what the real consequences are.

Of course these two issues do not exhaust the catalog of Gensler’s regulatory imperium. Another big one is his climate change reporting initiative. I’ll turn to that another day, but in the meantime definitely check out John Cochrane’s dismantling of that piece of GiGi’s handiwork.

As Gideon John Tucker said famously 156 years ago: “No man’s life, liberty or property are safe while the Legislature is in session.” Nor are they when Gary Gensler heads a regulatory agency.

Despite all the hype over DeFi, there is nothing really new under the financial sun. Yes, the platform or technologies may differ, but most (if not all) of what is being hyped as revolutionary today is closely analogous to something that has been around for a long time.

Case in point: stablecoins. As I pointed out in a post several years ago (and as many others have pointed out as well), they are functionally equivalent to notes issued by banks prior to the National Banking Act of 1863. And they have the same fundamental problem: they are liabilities backed by opaque balance sheets that make them subject to runs. Uncertainty about the value of assets backing the notes can induce a run.

How to address this? Well, an algo right? Because don’t algorithms fix everything?

That is the idea behind stablecoin TerraUSD and its companion cryptocurrency TerraLuna. The algo was that the holder of the TerraUSD has the right to exchange $1 of TerraUSD for $1 of TerraLuna. Since the value of TerraLuna fluctuates, the number of TerraLuna exchanged for $1 of TerraUSD must fluctuate as well to maintain the peg. So in essence, TerraUSD is backed by Terra Luna. And TerraLuna is backed by: GEE! LOOK AT THAT SQUIRREL!

But here’s the thing. Regardless of what it is backed by, or not, or what people think that it is backed by, it almost certainly has a downward sloping demand curve: More Luna, lower price. And that’s where the problem lies.

The Magic Algo broke down when many people tried to exchange TerraUSD for Luna, and the supply of Luna exploded . . . and hence the value of Luna crashed. (The story behind what caused the surge of redemptions is convoluted, and really is beside the point for explaining the flaw in the algo: spikes in demand to liquidate can occur for many reasons–sunspots, anyone?–and any one of them can cause the problem.)

The crashing Luna increased the incentive to liquidate TerraUSD which accelerated the downward spiral.

If this problem sounds familiar, it should, and is another illustration of nothing new under the financial sun. Anybody know what I’m thinking about?

That’s right. Enron. Enron set up various special purpose entities in which it placed dodgy assets. Enron protected investors in the SPEs by promising to sell Enron stock to cover losses. When the losses crystalized, Enron had to sell more and more stock, driving down its stock price, a process that eventually resulted in Enron’s messy demise.

The analogy isn’t exact, but it surely rhymes. A scheme intended to prop up the value of one thing by promising to sell more of another thing is inherently unstable because performing on the guarantee undermines the value of what you are guaranteeing it with (because you have to issue more of it), which makes the guarantee worth less, which creates incentives to run to cash in on the guarantee while you can, which triggers a lot of issuance of what you are guaranteeing it with, driving down its value.

It’s an inherently unstable structure. It’s arguably less stable than a traditional stablecoin aka digital bank note because it essentially mandates fire sales in increasing quantities in response to liquidation shocks. With a downward sloping demand curve (e.g., for Luna) the fire sales cause price declines that can–and in this case did–cause the entire structure to implode.

So why did anybody think algorithmizing a doom loop was a good idea? Lunatics, apparently. Quite literally.

I guess I understand the allure of algos, especially to the tech/computer savvy. They seem transparent. Superficially they take out guesswork and human error and human judgment and weird human behavior. But it is exactly their mechanical nature that some find appealing that can lead to disaster, because they often encode positive feedback loops that are triggered by humans behaving like humans when they interact with the algorithm. And in financial markets, positive feedback almost always has negative effects.

And that is what the TerraUSD-Terra Luna algo did.

Algos can be exactly like the broomsticks in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. They do exactly what they are told. And as in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, that can be a big problem.