The repo market: a faultline waiting for a crisis?

A source of vast leveraging.

In 1987, having been swept from the Oxford University metallurgy department to Wall Street, I was given a grim warning at a meeting. “We have exacting standards. Only the very best will succeed on our graduate training program. For those of you who do not make it, your fate lies here…” at which our eyes were directed towards a row of desk-bound troglodytes feasting upon pizza at seven in the morning. It was the Repo desk.

If capitalism really is doomed to go through periodic crises then you are well advised to look for the next problem in the place where you previously thought inconsequential. In the 1990’s a curiosity evolved that allowed investors to insure against a company going bust these days known as credit default swaps.  Eighteen years later, after the hilarity had died down and we’d all wiped a collective tear from our eye, credit default swaps brought down AIG, caused the biggest bankruptcy in corporate history and contributed to the near-vaporization of the global financial system.

The same can be said of the repo market – on the face of it, it looks like nothing but has an underlying menace we should take notice of.  Repo stands for repurchase and it works the same way as pawnbroking. You take a watch to a pawnbroker and borrow money against it. A week later you have to pay back the money plus interest to get the watch back, or repurchase it. The repo market merely uses financial securities, such as government bonds, for collateral, instead of watches. It sounds like a simple and safe thing to do but in the wrong hands it can be deadly.

The danger comes from the fact that it allows people with no money to access vast amounts of securities. A hedge fund or bank can buy securities THEN go looking for the money to pay for them through the repo market. All is well as long as you are earning more on the securities than you are paying in interest for the repo market loan that pays for them. But if the market value of the securities begins to fall you are in real trouble.

Nobody knows how large the repo market actually is. Estimates range between ten to fifteen trillion dollars or bigger than the annual income of the entire United States. But what we do know is that the process of quantitative easing has pumped the system up with lots of cheap money. At the same time our central banks have given those who use the repo market the confidence that their securities (bonds and equities) won’t fall in value. It’s a poisonous combination: a rise in borrowing costs combined with a decline in the value of securities would lead to a stampede for the door and someone will get trampled on. Federal Reserve chairman Ben Bernanke in a recent, seemingly innocuous, speech let the cat out of the bag when he said that “More work is needed to better prepare investors and other market participants to deal with the potential consequences of a default by a large participant in the repo market.” In other words, it’s coming. Low interest rates and stable securities values won’t last forever. Someone is going out of business.

Psychologists put our periodic crises down to people’s inability to self-limit. Anthropologists put it down to western culture’s inability to join up the various silos in society to reveal the whole, faulted, picture. In reality, to spot the next crisis all you have to do is follow the money: it’s with the troglodytes on the Repo desk.

Head of Fixed Income and Macro, Old Mutual Global Investors

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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.