The horizon is not so far as we can see, but as far as we can imagine

Month: January 2010 Page 4 of 5

Banks In Britain Will Absorb Cost of 50% Bonus Tax

Even I am slightly surprised, though not shocked:

City bankers will suffer little or no impact from the bonus supertax imposed by the government last month, according to a Financial Times poll of leading investment banks.

Most banks, polled in an anonymised survey, said they would absorb all or part of the cost of the one-off 50 per cent tax by inflating their bonus pools, even at the risk of irritating the government and their own shareholders.

The sense of entitlement is breathtaking.  The banks simply need to be broken up, and the remaining ones turned into utilities with regulated profit levels and compensation levels.  Clearly the people in charge cannot be trusted to act in the best interests of either society or even the shareholders they claim are their primary responsibility.

Until this is done, I will add, the middle class will not see any real gains in real disposable income after all taxes (which includes interest, which is a tax) are taken into account.  It’s you or them folks, and they are damn well determined it isn’t going to be them.  They are parasites, not symbiotes, they sicken their host and can even kill it, rather than making it stronger.

And you are their hosts, from whom they suck blood to stay alive and grow fat.  Except unlike the huge swollen ticks gorged on blood who are their direct kin, no amount of blood is ever enough.

Who is the Greatest Perpetrator of Evil in the World?

Go, read, find out.

Bubbles In the Wind

Originally written August 23, 2005, a John Q Treasury reprint:

She is slight and crisply grey suit clad, her hair pinned into a bun and her lip bitten. The office is large, with only one window letting in dusk’s strained light. Three walls are covered with maps and graphs, each pinned neatly in place. In one corner, a muted television changes channels each minute and the final wall is nothing but crisp LCD screens. Some display stock tickers, others charts, still others a blur of words or news tickers. The woman sits cross legged in her chair at the center of this, completely motionless. She is looking in the direction of a series of charts whose titles all relate to housing and credit risk derivatives, but her eyes are unfocused…

When the man says her name, “Libby”, she doesn’t so much as twitch until long seconds have gone by. Slowly, with a shift of her weight, she swivels the chair to face the silver haired man.

“John.”

He smiles faintly, “Libby.”

“Credit derivatives.”

“Offloading default risk from banks onto investors. The chairman says they make the market much… stronger.”

“Who’s buying these derivatives?”

“Hedge funds are big. Those boys need big profits. No one parks their money in a hedge fund to get mutual fund returns.”

“Lot of them are getting mutual fund returns.” She nods towards one of the charts

“I’m guessing their risk profile isn’t the same as a mutual fund’s.” It’s not a question but Libby nods to another chart.

“Nope. Lots of refi exposure too. ‘Cause the risk of someone defaulting on a second mortgate is no big deal.” She gestures with her chin to a series of charts pinned to one wall and he turns to look at them.

“Time to sale of housing. Seems to be going up in a lot of markets.”

“When a market hits a sharp discontinuity who gets hurt worst, first?”

“People who expect it to continue trend.”

“How do many hedge funds make their money?”

“Buy on variations from trend expecting a return to trend.” The silver haired man turns back to Libby. His voice is weary, “are we going to hit a discontinuity?”

“Ever blow bubbles as a kid?” One corner of her mouth tilts up. “Any of them ever not burst?”

John shakes his head, but says, “well, not that I know of. But maybe one’s still blowing on the wind somewhere.”

Nice country you have there, be a shame if anything happened to it

is the title of an email a friend sent to me about the threats made by Britain and the Netherlands to Iceland, when Iceland’s President refused to ratify a bill which would have required Iceland to pay 5.5 billion US to the Netherlands and Britain.  When Iceland’s banks failed, Britain and the Netherlands made up the deposits, and now they want Iceland to pay.  If Iceland doesn’t, they have threatened to spike both its entry to the European Union and its 10 billion dollar aid package from the IMF.

The President’s decision means there must be a referendum to determine the fate of the bill.  A lot of folks are decrying this and insisting that Iceland should pay, but the background and the consequences aren’t that simple.

First, by European law, only the first 20K of each account is covered.  Iceland already passed a bill in which they agreed to pay that back, and that bill was not vetoed.  England and the Netherlands insisted that they cover all of the money, not just the amount legally required.

Second, Iceland is a small country,with a population of 316,960.  That isn’t even as large as most Canadian suburbs.  The cost per citizen, including children, people out of work, and seniors, would be $17,352.  Given Iceland is in complete economic collapse, that is a massive burden they simply can’t afford.

Third, the banks were essentially unregulated.  Britain, yes Britain, gave them licenses to operate despite the fact that other European nations lobbyed against it.  Given how lightly regulated British banks were, this means that Icelandic banks were being used by the City (London) to do things too dubious even for the City.  And given what the City was (and is) willing to do, that means they were black holes. You put your money in a country like Iceland where the banks are set up for those sort of unregulated operations, you take your bloody chances.  The old saying “you can’t cheat an honest man” applies.  The depositors wanted largely unregulated earnings.  In exchange they need to accept the risk that comes with it.

Fourth, a fifth of the population had signed a petition asking the President to block the law and force a referendum.  Responding to that is democracy.

Fifth: the corporations are limited liability corporations.  Are countries responsibility for all the debts of limited liability corporations in their country?  I don’t think so.

Britain and the Netherlands are extorting money with what amounts to threats to turn Iceland into a third world country where people may well starve to death.  They are doing so to bail out depositors who were greedy or stupid enough, or both, to be put money into banks set up precisely because they were doing stuff too risky even for London to do and which are limited liability companies.

After Gordon Brown used anti-terrorism laws to seize Icelandic assets, this is a further descent into thuggery and blackmail and those who say that Icelanders should pay it all off should think very carefully if they want their country to be forced to pay off all its private companies debts to foreigners.

For shame.

William James Welsh, 1929-2010

I received news today that my father had died.  He’d had pneumonia, the “old man’s friend”, but somehow I didn’t expect him to die of it.  He’d been written off so many times and pulled through that even though I thought it was theoretically possible, I didn’t really believe this would be it.  And perhaps the idea that my father could die, that it was possible, wasn’t something I really believed, emotionally

But he could.  And he has.

A big man, both tall and broad with a red face, my father was one of those men for whom “larger than life” was coined.  His temper was legendary, and he often seemed to radiate fury.  I had seen him, in his prime, wade into large crowds, and a path would melt open in front of him without a word being spoken or him having to push at all.  I have seen men literally shake when he lowered his voice to a whisper.  His ready temper made him a bad father in many respects, and a worse husband, but it had its uses.  I still remember, when I was 23, and extremely ill, the way my father used his fury, a living thing which seemed barely leashed, to make sure I got the care I needed, and was treated the way he felt I should be.

He had me late, at age 39, so I never knew him as a young man. From the time I was 1 till I was 5, we lived in Malaysia, and we seemed to be quite wealthy. But a business deal went bad, due to politics, and my father lost it all.  He never really recovered.  There was a nasty edge to his temper afterwards which I don’t remember from before.  Always a bit of a boozer, he hit the alcohol harder, drinking every night when he came home.  We returned to Canada, but somehow he seemed out of place there.  He was a man meant for Asia, a man more at home in other countries than in his own.

In my life, he seemed most comfortable as a boss, especially in third world countries.  When he managed a large project in Bangladesh during my teens, he seemed in his element  The temper which in Canada caused him problems was shrugged off, and his loyalty and fairness shone through and were respected by those who worked for him.  I remember his second in command, a local man, telling me that he didn’t care about my father’s rages, what he cared about was that if my father was wrong, or did wrong, he would admit and apologize.  What mattered is that when man’s wife was sick, and needed medicine, he’d get it for him.  What mattered is that if a man needed help in court, my father would be there for him.  In Bangladesh the temper was not an issue, and his virtues were respected.

Infamously focused on “getting the job done”, he didn’t manage UN FAO (Food and Agriculture) headquarters well, cutting past their procedures and concerns time and time again.  I remember hearing the blow-by-blow of his battles with “Rome”, year after year.  He was protected by the fact that the locals whom he was there to help, including the Chief Forester and the Minister, loved him.

Eventually, of course, Rome finished him off.  They told his supporters in country that it was bad for his career to stay so long in one place, removed him from Bangladesh and his support, then they never gave him work ever again.  A beautiful piece of bureaucratic infighting, from which he never fully recovered, being a man who needed a job to do which mattered.   Playing nice and by the rules had won out over getting the job done, and my father was a dinosaur, a man who grew up in the Great Depression, a man with little finesse and no respect for rules which didn’t make sense to him.  The bull had been gelded.

My own relationship with my Dad was rocky.  I didn’t like how he treated me, and more importantly, I didn’t like how he treated my mother.  For a couple years in my twenties I cut off all contact with him, and unfortunately with my mother (it being one of those households where it was impossible to get to the wife without going through the husband.)  His drinking and his temper revolted me.

As with many men, much of what I am today is in direct reaction to my father—in direct reaction against him.  And yet, the truth is I have many of his characteristics, including his distaste for game playing, his belief that doing the job right is what matters and his unwillingness to tolerate bullshit and hypocrisy.

But as he aged, he mellowed.  We arranged that there would be no drinking during my visits.  And, perhaps most importantly, when I was deathly ill in my early 20s, he charged out from Victoria BC, to Toronto and helped in every way he could.  It’s something I’ve never forgotten.  The one time it really mattered, he came through.

So I’ll miss the old bastard. I wish I’d taken his illness more seriously this time, and gone out to see him, but I’ll try and honor his memory by remembering the best of him, the man who got the job done in the third world, saving many lives and to hell with Rome; the man who charged out to Toronto and helped me when I was sick; the man who helped many of those who needed it, who was loyal to his friends and those who worked for him.

If there is an afterlife, may he find in it a battle worthy of his rage, and the wisdom to know when and who to unleash it on.  In many ways he wasn’t a good man, but he was a man, and if he wasn’t a good family man, it is still true that the world is a better place for him having lived than if he had not.

May we all be able to say the same when our own time comes.

Getting Ready for the next Disaster

Via Corrente. Bloomberg:

[Barney Frank’s bill, H.R. 4173] supports the biggest banks. It authorizes Federal Reserve banks to provide as much as $4 trillion in emergency funding the next time Wall Street crashes. So much for “no-more-bailouts” talk. That is more than twice what the Fed pumped into markets this time around.

Best of all, the bill contains a provision that, in the event of another government request for emergency aid to prop up the financial system, debate in Congress be limited to just 10 hours.

Hahahahahaha.

1) the next crisis is inevitable, and the elites know it

2) they don’t intend to get stuck with the bill

3) Barney Frank is a whore.  I find it funny that Dodd’s the one in trouble, because Frank is far far worse, and has been all along.  He’s also smart enough to know exactly what he’s doing.

Caging a Nightingale

Today is my mother’s birthday, or would be if she wasn’t dead.  In honor of her memory, I’m re-posting what I wrote about her last mother’s day.

It being mother’s day, and the entire world conspiring to tell me about it, over and over again, I’ve been thinking a bit about my mum. She died 3 years ago of cancer. I spent her last two weeks by her bed, and she died the night I told her that everyone had come and that it was ok for her to die. By that point she couldn’t speak, and while she didn’t seem to be in much pain, she certainly wasn’t enjoying what was left of her life.

She had lived her life for other people–for me, and for her husband. I don’t know any of her close friends who didn’t think she should have gotten a divorce when I was a young kid, but she didn’t. At that time I’m pretty sure it was because she was threatened with losing me.

But really, the woman she was when I was young died when I was 13. I remember it well. My father had gotten a job with the UN, in Bangladesh. My mother didn’t want to go. As far as my father was concerned, where the husband went the wife went.

In Canada she had a job, as the secretary to the woman who ran the Coquitlam library system. It was the most senior secretarial position in the organization and quite responsible. In her early forties, she looked ten years younger, fit and slim, with dark black hair. She walked everywhere, regularly walking 30 or 40 blocks a day, and while I think it’s safe to say she wasn’t happy, she had a life with some happiness in it.

She went with my father to Bangladesh. I went to boarding school in Vancouver. 4 months later I visited my parents, for Christmas, in Bangladesh. She had no job, no life outside the house. She had loved children, and they loved her, but now she had no child to look after, neither me nor our cousins. Her life was completely her husband’s. My mother had put on 40 pounds, her hair was half gray and her eyes were dull.

She had been broken.

The woman she was had died. Like a man who cages a nightingale in his fist, by not letting it have any freedom, my father had killed what he loved. I don’t know if he ever even realized it, or if he did, if he cared, or if the pleasure of imposing his will made up for it.

The women in my family usually make it to their late 80s and my father was 10 years older than my mother and not in good health. So I always assumed she’d have a good 20 years free. She didn’t.

But she died free.

About 3 weeks before she died, when she knew she had cancer but assumed she had 8 months to a year left, we talked. She told me that she had decided to move out, and that she would never live with him again. I was never so happy for her.

A few days later she collapsed, and never walked again. Then she died.

But she died free.

My wish to you and for myself, then, is this.

Don’t die free.

Live free.

Why Democrats Are Trying to Commit Electoral Suicide

This question keeps coming up, so let’s tackle it.  45% of the Democratic base now says they aren’t going to vote in 2010 or are thinking of not voting.  This is a direct result of Democrats in Congress and the Presidency doing things the base disagrees with or not doing things the base wants to see done.  It appears politically stupid to act as they have, and yet, they did.  So why?

Elected Democrats at the Federal level are members of the national elite.  If they weren’t a member when they were elected, they are quickly brought into the fold.  They are surrounded by lobbyists, other members and staffers who were lobbyists, as a rule.  They learn they need to raise immense amounts of money in the off years when normal people aren’t giving, and that the only way to raise that money is for corporate interests and rich people to write the checks.  They also receive the benefits of elite status, very quickly. It’s not an accident that the every Senator except Bernie Sanders is wealthy.

Whatever Americans think, whether they support a public option or single payer; whether they’re for or against Iraq or Afghanistan; whether they agree with bailing out banks or not, elite consensus is much much narrower than American public opinion.  It starts at the center right and heads over to reactionary (repeal the entire progressive movement and the New Deal, taking America back to the 1890s).

The elites are convinced they know what has to be done.  Not necessarily what’s “best”, but what is possible given the constraints they believe America operates under and the pressures which elected officials work with.  So Obama can say, and mean, that if he were creating a medical system from scratch, he’d go with single payer.  But he “knows” that’s impossible, not just for political reasons, but because there are huge monied interests who would be horribly damaged or even destroyed by moving to single payer.  On top of that, he looks at the amount of actual change required to shift all that money away from insurance companies and to reduce pharma profits, and to change which providers get paid what, and he sees it as immensely disruptive to the economy.  In theory, it might lead to a better place, but to Obama, the disruption on the way there is unthinkable.

The same thing is true of the financial crisis.  The banks may be technically insolvent, but the idea of nationalizing them all, or shutting them down and shifting the lending to other entities would mean that the most profitable (in theory, not in reality) sector of the economy would largely be wiped out.  Add to that the fact that Obama was the largest recipient of Wall Street cash of the major candidates for the Presidency, and the immense influence the banks wield through their alumni who are placed throughout the Federal Reserve, the Treasury and other departments, and the idea of actually radically reforming the banking system becomes unthinkable.  Virtually every technocrat giving Obama or most Senators advice, will be against it.

Moreover they understand that with a few exceptions, the financial economy is the American economy.  It’s what the US sold to the rest of the world: pieces of paper in exchange for real money which could be used to import real goods, so Americans could live beyond their means.

Shut that down and what’s going to replace it?  How are you going to avoid an immediate meltdown of the US standard of living? How are you going to avoid a large part of the elite being wiped out?  You or I may have answers to that, except to wiping out a large chunk of the elite, which is something which needs to be done, but those who grew up under the system, who believe in the system, and who ran the system don’t.  What they’ve done all their lives is what they understand.  And more to the point the system has been good to them.  The last 35 years may have been a bad time to be an ordinary American, but the elite has seen their wealth and income soar to levels even greater than the gilded age.  The rich, in America, have never, ever, been as rich as they are now.

And if you’re a member of the elite, your friends, your family, your colleagues—everyone you really care about, is a member of the elite or attached to it as a valued and very well paid retainer.  For you, for everyone you care about, the system has worked.  Perhaps, intellectually, you know it hasn’t worked for ordinary people, but you aren’t one of them, you aren’t friends with them, and however much you care in theory about them, it’s a bloodless intellectual empathy, not one born of shared experience, sacrifice and the bonds of friendship or love.

So when a big crisis comes, all of your instincts scream to protect your friends, your family, and the system which you grew up under, prospered under and which has been good to you.  Moreover, you understand that system, or you think you do, and you believe that with a twiddle here and an adjustment there, it’s a system you can make work again.  Doing something radical, like single payer or nationalizing the banks or letting the banks fail and doing lending direct through the Fed and through credit unions: that’s just crazy talk. Who knows how it would work, or if it would work?  Why take a chance?

And so, until disaster turns into absolute catastrophe, the elites will fiddle with the dials, rather than engaging in radical change.  When the time comes when it becomes clear even to them that radical change is required, they are far more likely to go with their preconceived notions of what’s wrong with the US, which are very reactionary, than to go with liberal or progressive solutions.

So you’re far more likely to see Medicare and Social Security gutted, than you are to see the military budget cut in a third or Medicare-for-all  enacted. You’re far more likely to see a movement to a flat tax (supported by idiot right wing populists) than you are to see a return to high marginal taxation.

To the elites, ordinary Americans are pretty much parasites.  It’s not the bankers, with their multi-trillion dollar bailouts who are the problem, it’s old people with their Social Security and Medicare.  The elites made it.  They are rich and powerful.  They believe that their success is due entirely to themselves (even if they inherited the money or position).  If you didn’t, then that means you don’t deserve it.

Democratic party elected leaders, as a group, are members of this elite, or are henchmen (and some women) of this elite.  They believe what the elites believe, and they live within a world whose boundaries are formed by those beliefs.

They have no intention of engaging in radical change which threatens elite, which is to say, their, prosperity and power.  The financial industry must be saved, the medical industry must be saved.  Social Security and Medicare, which they don’t need and don’t benefit from, not so much.  The military, which funnels huge amounts of money to them, must continue to expand (in real terms military spending is now twice what it was in 2000.)

As long as elected Democrats at the Federal level are members of this elite, or identify with the elite they are not going to make fundamental changes against the interests of that elite.

And so, no, there is no “change” you can believe in from this class of Democrats.  There is no “hope” of an America which is better for ordinary people.

That doesn’t mean things are hopeless, but it does mean there’s little hope for anything radical from this Congress or President.

As Adam Smith pointed out, there’s a lot of ruin in a nation.  America’s going to have to endure a lot more of it before things actually change.

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