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For the first time in this unfolding financial crisis, I felt personally
scared by the news. Not about my money, but about the potential for
catastrophe. The Federal Reserve's
lightning rescue of AIG has the smell of systemic fear. The house of
global finance is on fire and everyone is running for the exits, no sure
way to turn them around. What's next? The question itself is ominous,
because there are no good answers.
The US central bank and other nations acted with speed, and good that
they did--an emergency loan of $85 billion to prop up the failing
insurance giant, plus another $75 billion in liquidity pumped into the
banking system to calm nervous bankers worldwide who abruptly stopped
lending. The international rate for overnight lending among banks has
doubled, an expression of fear that describes the potential danger of a
sudden freeze in lending, more or less everywhere. That would deliver a
deep shock to real economic activity, not just in the United States but
worldwide. This feels ominously parallel to the financial chaos that
followed the crash of 1929 and led to global economic collapse.
Government is much better equipped this time with various safeguards to
defend the system against an implosion--including Fed Chairman Ben
Bernanke's personal willingness to act swiftly with unorthodox measures.
But the case of AIG suggests the present unwinding has a malignant
dynamic to it that might even overwhelm the authorities' capacity to put
out fires. That's scary. I hope I'm wrong.
The reason the Fed was compelled to save an American insurance company
in order to save the global financial system goes to the source of the
rot--the "new financial architecture" developed during the last
generation. These innovations allowed banking and finance to expand
their leverage explosively, borrowing and lending far beyond the
traditional limits defined as prudent risk-taking. One gimmick that
supposedly made this okay was the creation of esoteric insurance
derivatives--the so-called "credit default swaps" that supposedly
protected investors and firms against losses in mortgage securities and
other debt paper.
Critics repeatedly warned that these derivatives were a time
bomb--trillions of dollars in risk insurance that would be exposed as
meaningless if financial markets ever experienced a sharp fall in asset
values. Politicians and regulators from both parties brushed aside the
critics and led cheers for Wall Street's fancy new ways of guaranteeing
risk.
AIG sold those guarantees in huge volume. It assumed potential
liabilities far beyond the firm's capacity to make good on the deals if
something went terribly wrong. The problem is global because AIG--an
imperious promoter of globalized finance--sold this rotten paper all
around the world to big investors and leading banks. If AIG is suddenly
insolvent, the pain and loss are spread instantly to thousands of
balance sheets in Asia and Europe--banks and corporations that must
suddenly write down their own assets. That's why the Fed could not wait
to find out what would happen if AIG was allowed to fail.
But the system is not free of these troubles. AIG was not the only
high flier peddling false hope to supposedly sophisticated financiers
and bankers. Some of the largest, most respectable banks--led by
JPMorgan Chase--did the same thing. It was a highly profitable line of
business. The gimmick insurance was widely admired by financial
economists and approved by the supposedly objective rating agencies. It
is not clear to me how government intervention can unwind this feature
of our corrupted financial system--short of making good on the trillions
in these essentially fraudulent contracts. Not even the Federal Reserve
has the assets to swallow all of Wall Street's folly and deception.
If my fears are right, a more fundamental reckoning may lie ahead and
Washington will have to take far more decisive action. At some point,
the new president might have to do what FDR did in the wreckage of early
1933--declare a "bank holiday" and announce emergency rules to govern
banking and finance until the crisis is broken. For the country's sake,
I think this a better approach than buying up junked banks and failed
financial firms, one by one. People have the right to ask: what exactly
are the rest of us getting for our money?
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
For the first time in this unfolding financial crisis, I felt personally
scared by the news. Not about my money, but about the potential for
catastrophe. The Federal Reserve's
lightning rescue of AIG has the smell of systemic fear. The house of
global finance is on fire and everyone is running for the exits, no sure
way to turn them around. What's next? The question itself is ominous,
because there are no good answers.
The US central bank and other nations acted with speed, and good that
they did--an emergency loan of $85 billion to prop up the failing
insurance giant, plus another $75 billion in liquidity pumped into the
banking system to calm nervous bankers worldwide who abruptly stopped
lending. The international rate for overnight lending among banks has
doubled, an expression of fear that describes the potential danger of a
sudden freeze in lending, more or less everywhere. That would deliver a
deep shock to real economic activity, not just in the United States but
worldwide. This feels ominously parallel to the financial chaos that
followed the crash of 1929 and led to global economic collapse.
Government is much better equipped this time with various safeguards to
defend the system against an implosion--including Fed Chairman Ben
Bernanke's personal willingness to act swiftly with unorthodox measures.
But the case of AIG suggests the present unwinding has a malignant
dynamic to it that might even overwhelm the authorities' capacity to put
out fires. That's scary. I hope I'm wrong.
The reason the Fed was compelled to save an American insurance company
in order to save the global financial system goes to the source of the
rot--the "new financial architecture" developed during the last
generation. These innovations allowed banking and finance to expand
their leverage explosively, borrowing and lending far beyond the
traditional limits defined as prudent risk-taking. One gimmick that
supposedly made this okay was the creation of esoteric insurance
derivatives--the so-called "credit default swaps" that supposedly
protected investors and firms against losses in mortgage securities and
other debt paper.
Critics repeatedly warned that these derivatives were a time
bomb--trillions of dollars in risk insurance that would be exposed as
meaningless if financial markets ever experienced a sharp fall in asset
values. Politicians and regulators from both parties brushed aside the
critics and led cheers for Wall Street's fancy new ways of guaranteeing
risk.
AIG sold those guarantees in huge volume. It assumed potential
liabilities far beyond the firm's capacity to make good on the deals if
something went terribly wrong. The problem is global because AIG--an
imperious promoter of globalized finance--sold this rotten paper all
around the world to big investors and leading banks. If AIG is suddenly
insolvent, the pain and loss are spread instantly to thousands of
balance sheets in Asia and Europe--banks and corporations that must
suddenly write down their own assets. That's why the Fed could not wait
to find out what would happen if AIG was allowed to fail.
But the system is not free of these troubles. AIG was not the only
high flier peddling false hope to supposedly sophisticated financiers
and bankers. Some of the largest, most respectable banks--led by
JPMorgan Chase--did the same thing. It was a highly profitable line of
business. The gimmick insurance was widely admired by financial
economists and approved by the supposedly objective rating agencies. It
is not clear to me how government intervention can unwind this feature
of our corrupted financial system--short of making good on the trillions
in these essentially fraudulent contracts. Not even the Federal Reserve
has the assets to swallow all of Wall Street's folly and deception.
If my fears are right, a more fundamental reckoning may lie ahead and
Washington will have to take far more decisive action. At some point,
the new president might have to do what FDR did in the wreckage of early
1933--declare a "bank holiday" and announce emergency rules to govern
banking and finance until the crisis is broken. For the country's sake,
I think this a better approach than buying up junked banks and failed
financial firms, one by one. People have the right to ask: what exactly
are the rest of us getting for our money?
For the first time in this unfolding financial crisis, I felt personally
scared by the news. Not about my money, but about the potential for
catastrophe. The Federal Reserve's
lightning rescue of AIG has the smell of systemic fear. The house of
global finance is on fire and everyone is running for the exits, no sure
way to turn them around. What's next? The question itself is ominous,
because there are no good answers.
The US central bank and other nations acted with speed, and good that
they did--an emergency loan of $85 billion to prop up the failing
insurance giant, plus another $75 billion in liquidity pumped into the
banking system to calm nervous bankers worldwide who abruptly stopped
lending. The international rate for overnight lending among banks has
doubled, an expression of fear that describes the potential danger of a
sudden freeze in lending, more or less everywhere. That would deliver a
deep shock to real economic activity, not just in the United States but
worldwide. This feels ominously parallel to the financial chaos that
followed the crash of 1929 and led to global economic collapse.
Government is much better equipped this time with various safeguards to
defend the system against an implosion--including Fed Chairman Ben
Bernanke's personal willingness to act swiftly with unorthodox measures.
But the case of AIG suggests the present unwinding has a malignant
dynamic to it that might even overwhelm the authorities' capacity to put
out fires. That's scary. I hope I'm wrong.
The reason the Fed was compelled to save an American insurance company
in order to save the global financial system goes to the source of the
rot--the "new financial architecture" developed during the last
generation. These innovations allowed banking and finance to expand
their leverage explosively, borrowing and lending far beyond the
traditional limits defined as prudent risk-taking. One gimmick that
supposedly made this okay was the creation of esoteric insurance
derivatives--the so-called "credit default swaps" that supposedly
protected investors and firms against losses in mortgage securities and
other debt paper.
Critics repeatedly warned that these derivatives were a time
bomb--trillions of dollars in risk insurance that would be exposed as
meaningless if financial markets ever experienced a sharp fall in asset
values. Politicians and regulators from both parties brushed aside the
critics and led cheers for Wall Street's fancy new ways of guaranteeing
risk.
AIG sold those guarantees in huge volume. It assumed potential
liabilities far beyond the firm's capacity to make good on the deals if
something went terribly wrong. The problem is global because AIG--an
imperious promoter of globalized finance--sold this rotten paper all
around the world to big investors and leading banks. If AIG is suddenly
insolvent, the pain and loss are spread instantly to thousands of
balance sheets in Asia and Europe--banks and corporations that must
suddenly write down their own assets. That's why the Fed could not wait
to find out what would happen if AIG was allowed to fail.
But the system is not free of these troubles. AIG was not the only
high flier peddling false hope to supposedly sophisticated financiers
and bankers. Some of the largest, most respectable banks--led by
JPMorgan Chase--did the same thing. It was a highly profitable line of
business. The gimmick insurance was widely admired by financial
economists and approved by the supposedly objective rating agencies. It
is not clear to me how government intervention can unwind this feature
of our corrupted financial system--short of making good on the trillions
in these essentially fraudulent contracts. Not even the Federal Reserve
has the assets to swallow all of Wall Street's folly and deception.
If my fears are right, a more fundamental reckoning may lie ahead and
Washington will have to take far more decisive action. At some point,
the new president might have to do what FDR did in the wreckage of early
1933--declare a "bank holiday" and announce emergency rules to govern
banking and finance until the crisis is broken. For the country's sake,
I think this a better approach than buying up junked banks and failed
financial firms, one by one. People have the right to ask: what exactly
are the rest of us getting for our money?