By Kevin D. Williamson
Sunday, September 18, 2016
It is impossible to pity Wall Street for its current
predicament. After doing so much to ensure
the election of Barack Obama in 2008 and lavishly patronizing his
congressional allies, the pinstripes-and-Adephagia set is suffering mightily
under burdens partly of its own creation.
Which would all be good sport it if weren’t bad for the
rest of the country.
In the wake of the 2008–09 financial crisis, major
financial firms were in effect made subject to a set of secret regulations.
Under the authority of the Federal Reserve, banks are subjected to “stress
tests,” a kind of financial game — think Dungeons & Dragons as imagined by
accountants. Regulators draw up test cases involving economic models used to
project the effect of severe downturns, market crashes, and other nasty events
on the solvency of large financial firms, of the sort we’re not supposed to
call “too big to fail” any more — even though a decade’s worth of reforms has
left them even bigger than they were back when they were only too big, instead of too-too big. Never mind, for the moment, whether the economic
models behind those test cases are any good – what’s relevant to the question
at hand is that they are secret.
It is easy to understand why the regulators want to keep
the particulars of their stress tests a secret from the people who run the big
Wall Street companies. The people who run the big Wall Street companies are –
forgive the bluntness – a heck of a lot smarter than the people who would
regulate them. If they know exactly what standards they will be required to
meet, they’ll reverse-engineer a way to meet those standards, and the Fed may
as well never do another stress test. We do not really have to guess about
that: The entire field of structured finance exists almost exclusively as a
response to various kinds of financial regulations and prohibitions. The people
at Goldman Sachs and J.P. Morgan are intelligent enough to make their accounts
say whatever they need to say to satisfy regulators. They may not be happy
about it — they almost certainly will not be happy about it, because it eats
into profit — but if they know the rules of the game, they will play the game
by the rules.
But Washington is asking them to play by the rules — and
then stapling the rulebook shut.
Banks’ stress-test performances have real, substantial
effects on their businesses. If they do not satisfy the examiners, they are
forced to reallocate their capital in ways that are more in keeping with
regulators’ preferences but less profitable. Which is to say, banks are in
effect being regulated, tightly, in accordance with an economic model that is
kept intentionally opaque, not only to financial executives but also to the
public, in whom the sovereignty of the federal government resides and to whom regulators
acting under color of federal law are responsible.
A group of financial firms is so vexed by the situation
that it is considering legal action against the federal government to relieve
the industry of this burden — or at least to make the particulars of that
burden known to those carrying it.
There is a kind of double bind at work here: Because of
the 2008–09 financial crisis, Washington wants banks to engage in fewer
different kinds of financial activities and to become more risk-averse than
they were. (You know how you can make a bunch of banks really, really
risk-averse? Let them fail when they make bad investments. One assumes that
many of those Lehman Bros. veterans are very cautious ladies and gentlemen,
indeed.) But there’s a problem with Washington’s trying to make banks more
risk-averse: It is working. And that, combined with the ultra-low interest
rates of recent years, has made financial firms less profitable. Perversely,
that leaves them more vulnerable to
financial shocks, rather than less vulnerable.
Banks are not the only firms subject to what amounts to
secret law. Until their dreams came to a quick and ugly halt in a U.S. federal
court, a cabal of lawyers and environmental activists with ties to the New York
Democratic machine, the Obama administration, and progressive media outlets
such as the Huffington Post had been
(and, to a lesser extent, it still is) engaged in what is probably the largest
single extortion attempt in modern history, trying to shake down Chevron for
billions of dollars for environmental crimes with which the oil giant had
nothing to do. A great many well-connected Democrats thought they were going to
be paid behind that, and when it turned out that they (probably) weren’t, the
Democrats, led by New York attorney general Eric Schneiderman, turned their
attention to another oil giant, Exxon.
The case against Exxon started off as pure political
harassment by a group of Democratic attorneys general representing New York, California,
and a few other states, along with the U.S. Virgin Islands. Exxon and advocacy
groups to which it had contributed (notably, the Competitive Enterprise
Institute) were subjected to invasive subpoenas as part of a fanciful “fraud”
investigation seeking to punish Exxon and free-market groups for refusing to
toe the Democratic line on global warming. (Exxon, incidentally, does more or
less toe that line so far as the question of the scientific consensus goes,
though it prefers different policies — another illustration of the fact that if
you are sitting on a large sum of money, you can never be progressive enough
for the progressives who covet that money.) Now the jihad against Exxon is
taking a new turn.
With oil and gas prices low due in no small part to the
fact that the United States has been producing more oil than Saudi Arabia in
recent years — thanks, fracking! — a great many oil and gas wells have been temporarily
sidelined, because it costs too much to operate them with prices as low as they
are. The energy business is remorselessly cyclical. Many oil companies have
taken writedowns on their non-producing assets — for bookkeeping purposes, the
value of those assets has been reduced to reflect lost production — but Exxon
has not. Exxon has a few reasons for this, but the short version is that given
the diversity and range of its holdings — by market capitalization, it has
ranged over the past several years from being the world’s largest company to
its fifth-largest — and the fact that its previous valuations were (so it says)
very conservative, it has no need to write down assets that it regards as
temporarily sidelined. Some analysts say Exxon is wrong to do this, others say
the firm is on solid ground. Schneiderman has opened up an investigation under
the Martin Act, a securities statute.
Is Exxon in the wrong? It is, in fact, impossible to say.
There are highly technical questions in play, and, as in many such cases, it
probably will come down to a matter of competing interpretations of a dozen or
more different financial and non-financial issues. On the one hand, Exxon has a
legal duty to make accurate public statements about its finances; it also has a
legal duty to act as a fiduciary to its shareholders, which means not imposing
unnecessary losses on them. The company also believes — it may be wrong about
this, but it may not — that it is uniquely situated to wring profits out of
certain assets even at prices that would have its competitors capping those
wells. To call the law here “murky” and “contradictory” would be too generous.
But does anybody seriously believe that Eric Schneiderman
is dispassionately considering the legal issues here? Or is it more likely that
he has simply identified a new front in his campaign against a company, and an
industry, that he intends to use as a political whipping boy and/or cash cow?
Whether they are banks facing stress tests or oil
companies trying to figure out how much value their engineers and managers can
actually derive from a certain asset, companies need legal and regulatory
clarity and certainty. ExxonMobil is a $340 billion company — it needs to know
whether it is breaking the law without bankrupting itself through excessive
caution. The banks, for their part, are worried about the presidential election
and what its outcome will mean for the regulation of their industry — and when
the commanding heights of the economy are being held hostage to political worries,
you have a deep and wide problem.
Sure, nobody weeps for investment banks or oil companies.
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