RORO: Risk on, risk off

Assets are moving in lockstep with each other, which is making life very hard for traders indeed.

The phenomenon of RORO – risk on, risk off – is nicely illustrated in two graphs from HSBC, via alphaville:

What you are seeing is two maps of correlations between various assets, in 2005 and 2012. Dark red means the two assets are strongly positively correlated, dark blue means they are strongly negatively correlated, and turquoise, green and yellow means no real correlation either way.

In 2005, most assets were roughly uncorrelated. Some, like the NASDAQ, S&P500 and Dow Jones, moved in tandem, as did the four key European markets, and the key sovereign and investment-grade bonds. But for the most part, different assets gained and lost value in an uncorrelated manner.

Come 2012, and everything changed. In the top left are all the assets which get stronger in the good times – mostly indexes like the FTSE, but also a few currencies and copper. In the bottom right, there are the assets used to hedge bets when times are rough: the sovereign bonds, the Yen, and right down at the bottom, the US Dollar.

The former class are the risk-on assets; those investors buy when they want to take on risk to make money. The latter are the risk-off assets; those which they buy to get themselves some stability.

The simplified reason for the change is the bimodal nature of responses to crises. When things go wrong, one of two things happen: Governments step in and save the day, or they don't. Quantitative easing is one example of this, but so are bank bailouts, expansions of the "firewall", and so on. If they happen, every risk-on asset rises; if they don't, everything falls.

For those interested, a deeper examination of what RORO means for markets is given by Bryce Elder over at the FT, but the overall problem with the phenomenon is that it reduces trading to a bet on up or down. As a result, traders hate it. As Elder writes, instead of being able to do their job well, by focusing on the fundamentals of each asset they buy (asking questions like "is copper going to be in demand because of growing infrastructure demands"), "each day’s profit or loss is determined to a large degree by results of a sovereign bond auction or comments by a central banker".

Until the crisis is over, though, RORO is sticking around, so investors had better learn to live with it.

Risk on: A trader at the New York Stock Exchange. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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