Thursday, July 30, 2009

On "Organizational scar tissue"

John Cook blogged about stupid policies within organizations, in response to a quote he saw:

Policies are organizational scar tissue. They are codified overreactions to unlikely-to-happen-again situations.

John mostly agreed and pointed out that policies sometimes arise for good reasons, though the reasons may be hard to reconstruct later. I want to take the conversation in a different direction: How do you design an organization so that the policies can change if the circumstances have changed?

There are policies designed to handle unlikely events and policies designed to handle everyday events. Both kinds can atrophy over time and no longer be relevant. The ones for unlikely situations are harder to set up time-outs for, but the ones for everyday use are the more costly when they outlive their usefulness.

The hard part of the situation John described is figuring out a different approach that leaves you more flexibility. (If you've built a Maginot line, as in his metaphor, you're pretty much stuck.) So the challenge is designing an organizational culture that can identify outmoded policies and change or discard them.

In a small, agile organization I once worked in, we developed a checklist for use by the project manager (me!) during the release process. The reason was that there were things I occasionally forgot to do that came back to bite me or my boss, the CEO. The rule about the checklist was that it was for me to fill out on my own responsibility. There were items that asked for initials from other people, but I was allowed to ignore them on my own initiative. We updated the checklist often enough that I could remove useless items whenever I noticed that their relevance had disappeared.

For a larger organization, you don't want an individual to make those decisions unless there's a way for them to know the original reason for the policy. So writing up the rationale along with the policy makes it possible for the person on the spot to know whether they should ignore or attempt to change the policy. In a small agile organization you don't want the overhead of having to write up the rationale every time you add a process step, but if the organization grows, you'll need the rationale. It's a dynamic tension that organizations have to learn to adapt to as they grow.

ADDED During the ensuing discussion on The Endeavor, someone pointed to NetFlix' internal presentation on their corporate culture. Very impressive. If I wanted a job, that's the kind of company I want to work in.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Charles Stross: Saturn's Children

Charles Stross's Saturn's Children depicts a post-humanity future in the solar system; all the characters are various forms of robots, and many have recognizable and sympathetic feelings, goals and aspirations. The humans died out a few hundred years ago but neglected to think about how their posterity would get along in their absence.

Stross has created a very interesting society here. Many of the robots (the focal characters, particularly) were designed to be personal servants to the humans, and their drives are very much shaped around the desires of their absent masters. Others, less constrained, use these drives to control and shape them. The basic conflict is over whether it's possible or desirable to bring back humans. If this could be done and they could be managed, then whoever controlled the humans would have immense power because of the drive to serve the humans that is built in to so many of the robots.

The background is fascinating in that any robot that was expected to work in the presence of humans was designed to have strong strictures to honor and obey them, which leaves them in a strangely constrained state now that the humans aren't around. All the apparatus of government is still in place, and no decisions can be made or changed without humans to vote or make an administrative decision. So the government runs on auto-pilot, and many projects that made sense--terraforming to create new habitable territories--are senseless when the robots can adapt to harsh environments much more easily. And robots that are more able to bend their internal definitions of what the humans wanted are less constrained.

The basic conflict sheds light on thoughts about freedom and free will. Freya, the main character, was designed as a sex-bot, but she was first activated long after the humans had died out, so her drive to serve them is unrequited. Her design gives her some special abilities (cosmetic enhancement gives her an innate talent for disguise and her adjustable high-heeled feet (as Laurie Anderson sang) come in handy in combat and escape. But most of the time, she's a free agent, other than having to serve employers and mentors. Self-ownership is a concrete idea in this society. All the robots originally had owners, but the ultimate owners are now gone from the scene, so each robot is owned by some corporation. Being self-owned means controlling the corporation that owns your body. Unfortunately, some of the robots are rich enough that they can sue others into bankruptcy, and buy their corporations, so there's no safety in owning your corporation. In addition to the slave chips that get used occasionally, ownership conveys control by allowing one being to assert "control level nine" and require absolute obedience of another. Of course, if the subservient one can convince herself of doubts about the authenticity of the ownership, she can escape the fetters.

Overall, this is a fun romp. Stross displays a strong sense of humor, and Freya is a joy to watch. Many of the service machines and tools are aware and interactive, and Stross is quite inventive in giving them interesting drives and quirks. The political implications are interesting, but mostly not the focus of the story. It calls itself "A Space Opera" and it is that, with the addition of interesting personalities and new viewpoints on how our robot progeny will live and think. Saturn's Children is a finalist for the Prometheus Award. The freedom orientation is too subtle to win in what has turned out to be a year with some very strong candidates. It's a lot of fun to read none-the-less.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Dean Keith Simonton: Greatness

Dean Keith Simonton's Greatness is an attempt to catalog all the influences that allow some people to have a larger effect on the world than their fellows. It takes a more wide-ranging and less data-driven approach to the question than Charles Murray's Human Accomplishment. I thought it was less successful, mostly because there were too many sections that were speculative, not well grounded, or inconclusive.

There were, of course, sections that contained important insights, but if one part in three, scattered evenly throughout a 500 page book is unfocused material, the useful portions are harder to identify and lose much of their impact. The most important conclusion I found in the book is that great results are the consequence not just of intelligence, insight, or drive, but that perseverance matters, even for people with huge natural talents. Simonton shows that even for the giants who are widely acknowledged to have remade their fields and outshone everyone else who has worked in the same fields, their masterworks appear in about the same proportion as for others who ended up contributing less overall. Their secret was no secret: they merely worked harder and longer and produced more. Their natural talents sometimes give them a slightly higher batting average, but overall productivity of great works and long-lived impact is a result of starting early and working more hours over more years than their rivals. Great achievers all have mediocre and uninteresting works mixed into their corpus, it's just not so noticeable given their best output. You'll find similar statistics for how long after someone started working that they produced their best work for the great and the near-great. The great simply find more time to be productive, and continue longer. It's possible that early productivity and continuing results enable the greatest producers in any field to continue contributing longer, which adds to their records, but single-mindedness and continuing focus is also crucial.

Simonton covers topics including intelligence, personality, birth order effects, genetics (mostly focusing on the extent to which greatness runs in families), pathology, and what makes some periods more fertile than others. The lack of mathematical models makes most of his speculation hard to trust as he seldom compares the statistics of the successful with those of their surroundings. If you don't know how often familial connections should arise by chance, it's hard to conclude that any particular number of examples demonstrates the existence or lack of any effect. Overall, there were lots of interesting facts and factoids, and the writing is engaging, but it's hard to take many of the conclusions very seriously as anything more than anecdote.

Monday, June 08, 2009

Neal Stephenson: Anathem

Neal Stephensonhas written another fascinating, grand, opus, Anathem. He's back to writing actual science fiction, and it's pretty impressive. It's somewhat of a surprise that the book wasn't broken up into a few smaller books, since it consists of a sequence of mostly separate adventures by a single hero, each explored in depth. (Actually, now that I look, it breaks easily into three segments of about 300 pages each.) The story starts with Erasmus as a young avout at a sanctuary for intellectuals. The first third of the story takes place as Erasmus is learning the avout way of thinking, and figuring out his place in his world. Stephenson does a good job of introducing in a concrete format several deep philosophical concepts that the reader will want to understand in the final section of the story. The second part of the story takes Erasmus and some of his fellows on a journey around Arbre, their world, after they are expelled from the sanctuary as a result of an emergency in the outside world. I'm not going to talk much about the final section, since it would spoil the story to know what the conflict is about, but lets just say it's a continuation of the journey to further and stranger places.

Erasmus' community is part of a system of monastaries spread around the world that serves to bleed off some of the presure for relentless progress from their society. The outside world still has an irregular cycle of boom and bust, but the mathic communities are isolated and serve to preserve the learning through the tough times. They have a very long view of the changing times--in fact Stephenson developed the ideas while working on some projects for the Long Now Foundation. The communities only have contact with the outside world once a year, and internally, the concents are further divided into subcommunities that only have external contact every decade or century. The more isolated each group, the more deeply they delve into various abstract and theoretical ideas. The less isolated groups treat learning almost as a competitive sport, and their different colleges emphasize different approaches to learning.

Erasmus and his cohort explore the nature of our universe, and some interesting philosophical issues that turn out to be relevant for the finale of the story. The characters explore higher math, philosophical issues such as personal identity, and quantum physics. I found the story very engaging, but I'd expect the depth and detail to turn off many readers. Stephenson is well in his element, exploring many issues in the back story while keeping an interesting story going in the foreground. The foreground story has love and loss, battles and chase scenes, extraterrestrials and high tech, and plenty of fun.

Anathem was nominated for this year's Prometheus award, but isn't a finalist. Libertarians will find it interesting for its exploration of some of the issues of governance of separated societies, and self determination. But it doesn't have the immediate political connection of some of this year's other nominees. I found it to be a fun read, and enjoyed the characters and situations as well as the exporations of philosophy and math.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

2009 Hellyer Park Bike Racing

I know I've mentioned my interest in the bike racing down at Hellyer park before, but it's time (apparently past time) for the annual update. They'll be running the Friday night race series in south San Jose on June 19, July 17, August 14, and September 4 and 18. Racing starts at 7pm and includes a variety of events: sprints, points races, miss & out, and scratch races.

There's also a special event (American Velodrome Challenge) June 26 and 27. The Friday night session (also starting at 7pm) includes Miss & Out, Kierin, Madison, points and scratch races. On Saturday, they'll have two sessions. The morning session lasts from 9:30am to 1pm, and the evening session starts at 6pm. The morning seems to be all sprints, while the evening has sprint finals, keirin, miss & out, scratch and points races.

Monday, June 01, 2009

Michael Flynn: January Dancer

Michael Flynn's The January Dancer is a finalist for this year's Prometheus Award because of Flynn's focus on the corrupting influence of the prospect of absolute power, and some of the characters' attempts to avoid it. Along the way we get a fascinating interstellar romp through a new way of navigating wormholes and get to visit a couple of worlds with some interesting variations on ways of organizing anarchic societies.

The story advances in two parallel streams, which eventually converge. The framework comes from an itinerant storyteller (a seanachy) gathering information about a story she has heard from an old worn-out man who is familiar with a lot of the details. These intercalary chapters alternate with the real action. It starts out with Captain Amos January and his small, but varied crew getting stranded on a small, unpopulated planet off the main trade routes. They know how to forage for the fuel they need without help, but find a treasure room with an inscrutably flowing artifact before they escape the planet.

Their dangerous flight from the planet leaves the ship damaged enough that Captain January must pledge the artifact as collateral to pay for repairs when they reach a civilized port. While they make a cargo run so they can afford to redeem the artifact, rumors start to circulate that the artifact has mysterious powers corresponding to an old legend about an alien mechanism that gives the holder powers of persuasion.

The January Dancer takes us on a tour that includes rebellion, piracy, imperial ambition, quiet guard duty, superhuman secret agents feared and obeyed by everyone, a quiet ungoverned unconquerable planet, and a hero willing to fore-go absolute power because of his concern for what would happen after his custodianship eventually ends: He can see that the artifact will spend more time in the hands of ambitious immoral men than in the care of those with a conscious.

The pacing is good, the characters are strong, and the scenery is varied without being too rushed. We get to spend the most time on New Eireann, a hard-scrabble planet that had hired a commercial firm to

manage their government contract. [The firm] sent in an honest administrator. By all accounts he ran a clean and honest administration though at first the Eireannaughta didn't realize that because they didn't know what one looked like. When they did, they revolted, because an administration that won't take bribes generally won't hand out favors, either.

That firm is replaced with the Interstellar Cargo Company (ICC), which is more amenable to skirting the edges, but seems to do a good job of managing commerce, keeping goods flowing efficiently among all the reachable stars.

The groups Flynn keeps an eye on include January's crew, the government and rebels on New Eireann, and the Hounds' Watch (the previously mentioned small corps of near-supermen responsible for ferreting out momentous plots and keeping the peace). Each has its internal conflicts and clues to add to the developing plot.

<SPOILER>I found it interesting that the ICC is depicted as being accepted by everyone for having cleaned up and regularized commerce while making a reasonable profit. Everyone seems content with this, until someone learns that they've discovered a way of circumventing the wormholes everyone uses, giving them a near instantaneous communications path. For some reason people consider this an unfair advantage, rather than a normal commercial development that benefits all of their customers. In most fiction, the opprobrium would have started with the fact that they were making money without doing anything more than ensuring that goods moved smoothly between planets. The fact that the disapproval didn't start until people found out that they had a secret technology was a little surprising.</SPOILER>

Most of the book is taken up with the adventuring, exploring, and intrigue. We don't find out until fairly late in the story what the artifact is good for, and only one of the characters thinks about any consequences beyond either ensuring the bads guys don't have it or trying to obtain it for themselves. The fact that his concern is expressed after the fact and not telegraphed to the readers or any other characters reduces its impact as a choice. It's a fait accompli by the time we hear about the issue, so there's no time to consider the issue. I thougth this reduced the dramatic impact considerably of what was apparently the core conflict in the story.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Terry Pratchett: Going Postal

Terry Pratchett's's Going Postal is another in Pratchett's Discworld series. I've only read a handful of these stories, but they've all been fun, lightweight fantasies that explore greater and lesser societal issues in a skew universe.

In this story, Pratchett looks at competition in business and the effect of the competent entrepreneur. Okay, you'd be unlikely to see it that way if you read the book, but those are the themes that I extracted from the story. Lord Vetinari wants to rejuvenate the Ankh-Morpork postal service, and he needs a motivated, creative manager to manage it. He plucks Moist von Lipwig from the scaffold and makes him an offer he can't refuse. Moist turns out to be very creative; his history as a schemer and con artist having prepared him to read people on the spot and make up convincing stories which he can fill in the details of later when he figures out which direction he's going to take the scam.

In this case, Moist is going up against the corrupt monopoly that runs a private semaphore-based messaging system that is closer to a telegraph than a message carrier. The Grand Trunk also has labor relations problems, since their lack of attention to maintenance issues has led to a surfeit of injuries and deaths among the employees. Moist is able to out-compete the Grand Trunk in order to regain the customer base the official post office lost long ago and use an occasional bit of sabotage to reduce the Grand Trunk's ability to stay in the game.

In the end, Moist resurrects the post office by acting as the nimble entrepreneur (with a side of underhandedness) in competition with an entrenched bureaucracy. He has enough obstacles (decades of undelivered mail piled up in the post office, attacks by the competition) and humanity (pursuing a surprising love interest) to be a sympathetic character. Pratchett turns the competitive environment on its head, but I think most readers will see that it's normally government monopolies that are resistant to change, and the story shows that it's the stodginess and resistance to change that lead to poor service. If the competitors have the ability to try new things (normally, not including violence and sabotage), the customers come out ahead, and competition improves all of the enterprises touched by it.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Julia Robinson Mathematics Festival: March 29 and May 2

If you're interested in math, puzzles, and encouraging middle and high school students to learn more about math, I recommend taking some time to help out at the Julia Robinson Mathematics Festival on March 29th in Emeryville. I heard about the festival at a talk last year. I actually helped out as a puzzle mentor for the geeky (adult) audience of this talk, and had a great time talking people through one of the puzzle sets.

The JRMF presents great puzzles--graduated challenges, interesting applications--in a context that encourages kids to work together on solving them. This both encourages the ones who don't get the solution right away and cements the mastery of those who caught on more quickly. Everyone has fun, and many youngsters are exposed to the notion that math is relevant and applies in many everyday situations.

They currently have an event scheduled at Pixar in Emeryville on Sunday March 29, and are planning another for May 2, but don't have a firm location for the latter yet. They're looking for adult volunteers to staff math tables. Here's the announcement I got via email.

General information:
The Julia Robinson Math Festival
The festival, for students in grades 6-12, will consist of morning mathematical activities lunch, an accessible (to middle school and high school students) math talk, and, of course, prizes. Julia Robinson is the Berkeley mathematician who, among other important discoveries, made significant contributions to the solution of Hilbert's Tenth Problem. Here's a bit of biography, and a bit about Hilbert Tenth.

The morning activities will cover a wide variety of mathematical topics, including abstract problem-solving techniques like symmetry and parity as well as content ranging from arithmetic and algebra through combinatorics and topology. Students will have time to visit at least five or six activities during the morning session. For a sample activity, see the Candy Conundrum (and Teacher's Guide). (There are downloadable links at http://msri.org/specials/festival) Each activity table will be staffed by an expert, and upon reaching certain milestones in their understanding of the mathematics behind the puzzle or game or activity, students will be rewarded with raffle tickets for the afternoon's prize drawings. Thanks to our sponsors, the desJardins/Blachman fund and Pixar, we have an impressive array of prizes!

For those who want to staff a math table:We need people who are comfortable with hard math problems, and who can patiently work with kids to guide them toward progress. We are looking for guides who will listen to what kids have worked on, ask some (perhaps leading) questions, and then let the kids continue to progress. If you're interested, contact Joshua Zucker (email: first.last at stanfordalumni dot org), and if you're not sure you're interested, contact him anyway and he can give more detailed information about the expectations of the table leaders.

Monday, March 09, 2009

Harry Turtledove, Opening Atlantis

Harry Turtledove's Opening Atlantis is a candidate for the Prometheus Award. I suspect it'll be chosen as a finalist since it's well written and interesting and has strong pro-freedom themes. Unfortunately for Turtledove (who was a co-winner last year for The Gladiator), some of my other favorites have more topical themes and are just as fun to read.

Opening Atlantis posits that an extra contintent has been inserted in the middle of the Atlantic, but otherwise history and geography are pretty much unchanged compared to our timeline. Not surprisingly, the new continent is noticed during the Age of Discovery, and since it's located in the Atlantic, it is named for the (realized to be mythological) Atlantis. The geography, flora, and fauna are surprising to the discoverers and eventual settlers. One recurring side note is the characters who recognize that the indigenous species are different in the old world, on Atlantis, and in Terranova (North America). They don't quite point to the possibility of evolution explicitly, but it's the kind of idle wonder that one imagines occurs many times before an explanation is found.

Turtledove's story is presented in three parts from successive eras, which are roughly Settlement and Independence, Battling the Pirates, and Dragged into the European War. Each of the segments has Edward Radcliffe or his descendants as central figures, and the first and last each features a different battle over freedom-related issues. In the first part, Atlantis is discovered and settled by English, French, and Spanish fishermen and their families. Lured by familiar climate, each group settles on a different section of the coast, and builds multiple towns that trade, but maintain separate cultures. The conflict in Part one comes when a nobleman sent away by the British Crown decides that British Atlantis is his new fiefdom. Since the settlers intentionally migrated in order to get away from kings and lords and their incessant war and taxation, it isn't long before they rise up and defeat the invaders. They are helped a lot by their familiarity with local conditions, and their willingness to fight as insurgents.

In the second part, two of Edward's descendants, Red Rodney Radcliffe (a pirate captain) and William Radcliff (a shipping magnate) battle over the fate of a pirate stronghold on the western edge of Atlantis. William allies with other major shipping owners to defeat the pirates and ensure that they'll be able to trade freely. I could say that the freedom-related themes have to do with free trade and cooperation among private enterprises to address a common problem, but truthfully this is just a setup for a series of naval battles. The good guys win.

The third part (my nickname was "Dragged into the European War") covers a period of strife between Britain and France. Early on, there was some discussion of which side Spain would take, and there are hints that other powers are engaged in other theaters, but we only see the battles that take place in Atlantis. Victor Radcliff leads the British-allied settlers, and his French-settler counterpart Roland Kersauzon is descended from the frenchman who first identified the new continent. Early on, the French settlers are reinforced by French troops, but for most of this war, the British navy controls the oceans but isn't concerned about the fate of Atlantis, so the armies on the ground are on their own. Tactics rule the day, and the settlers teach the regular armies several lessons about dealing with insurgents and familiarity with local terrain.

Victor Radcliff is joined by Blaise, an escaped slave who becomes a leader among the British irregulars. A lot of the conflict in this section is about how competent Blaise is and how he is able to win over British settlers who haven't had much previous contact with Blacks. The French and Spanish they run into (and the British regulars) are much less tolerant. Blaise finds several opportunities to point out the parallels between his situation and the freedom that the other settlers are fighting for.

Overall, it's quite a fun read and well up to Turtledove's normal high standards. The characters and their battles and strategic surprises are well-drawn and plausible.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Stephen Ziliak and Deirdre McCloskey: The Cult of Statistical Significance

Stephen Ziliak and Deirdre McCloskey's The Cult of Statistical Significance is a poorly argued rant about what appears to be an important topic on the pursuit of scientific knowledge. Ziliak and McCloskey argue that many of the statistical sciences have been using the wrong metric to determine whether the results of experiments are interesting and relevant. They report on a few detailed reviews of articles in top journals in economics, psychology, and other fields to show that the problem they describe is real and pervasive. Unfortunately, they are much more interested in casting aspersions on the work and influence of Ronald Fisher and building up his colleague William Gosset, and so they don't actually explain how to apply their preferred approach. In amongst the rant, they do manage to make the defects of Fisher's approach clear, though it's tedious reading.

The basic story is that Fisher argued that the main point of science is establishing what we know, and to that end, the important result of any scientific experiment is a clear statement of whether the results are statistically significant. According to Fisher, that tells you what confidence you should have that the results would be repeated if you ran the experiment again. Ziliak and McCloskey want you to understand that a result can be statistically significant but practically useless. And there are worse cases, where statistical significance and Fisher's approach leads scientists to hide more relevant results, or worse to conclude that a proposal was ineffective when the data show that a large effect might be present, but the experiment failed to show that it was certain. Ziliak and McCloskey want scientists to primarily report the size of the effects they find, and their confidence in the result. To Ziliak and McCloskey, a large effect discovered in noisy data is far more important than a small effect in very clear data. They point out that with a large enough sample, every effect will be statistically significant. (Though they don't explain this point in any detail, nor give any numbers on what "large enough" means. I have an intuitive feeling for why this might be true, but this was just one of many points that wasn't presented clearly.)

They describe a few stories in detail to show the consequences for public policy. Vioxx was approved, they claim, because the tests of statistical significance allowed the scientists to fudge their results sufficiently to hide the deleterious effects. (It's not clear why this should be blamed on statistical significance rather than corruption.) They also present a case that a study of unemployment insurance in Illinois found a large effect ($4.29 in benefit for every dollar spent), but gave the Fisherian conclusion, not just that the result wasn't statistically significant, but that there was no effect. It turned out that a careful review of the data showed that the program had a statistically significant benefit-cost ratio of $7.07 for white women, but the overall benefit-cost ratio was not statistically significant because the $4.29 was only statistically significant at the .12 level, while under .05 or less is required by Fisher's followers.

Ziliak and McCloskey demonstrate that they're on the right side of the epistemological debate by supporting the use of Bayes' Law in describing scientific results, but beyond one example, they don't explain how a scientific paper should use it in presenting results. The use of Fisher's approach gives a clear guide: describe some hypotheses, perform some tests, finally analyze the results to show which relationships are significant. With Bayes, the reasoning, approach and explanation are more complicated; but Ziliak and McCloskey don't tell how to do it. Of the 29 references to Bayesian Theory in the index, 24 of them have descriptions like "Feynman advocates ...", or "Orthodox Fisherians oppose ...". There aren't any examples of how one might write a conclusion to a paper and show Bayesian reasoning, even though they pervasively give examples of analogous Fisherian reasoning that they find unacceptable.

Another significance question that Ziliak and McCloskey argue is important (but that they don't explain adequately) and that statistical significance hides is how much various treatments or alternate policy approaches might cost. Fisher's approach allows authors to publish that some proposal would have a statistically significant effect on a societal problem or the course of a disease and not mention that the cost is exorbitant and the effect small (though likely). Ziliak and McCloskey argue that journal editors should require authors to publish the magnitude of any effects and a comparison of costs and benefits. According to the reviews they've done and others they cite, it's common in top journals to omit this level of detail and to focus on whether experimental results are significantly different from zero.

Another of the authors' pet peeves is "testing for difference from zero". They claim that it's common for papers to report results as "statistically different from zero", when they're barely so. They use the epithet "sign testing" for this case. The lack of attention to the size of an effect that significance testing allows means that papers get published showing that some effects have a positive effect on a problem, even when the effect is barely different from a placebo. And there are enough scientists performing enough experiments today that many treatments with no real effect will reach this level of significance purely by chance.

Overall, the book spends far too much time on personalities and politics. Even when the discussion is substantive, too much effort goes into why the standard approach is mistaken and far too little on how to do science right, or why their preferred approaches would actually lead to better science.

For the layperson trying to follow the progress of science, and occasionally to dip into the literature to make a decision about what treatment to recommend to a family member or what supplements would best enhance longevity or health, the point is that scientific papers have to be read more carefully. Ziliak and McCloskey argue that editors, even of prestigious journals, are using the wrong metrics in choosing what papers to accept, and often pressure authors to present their results in formats that aren't useful for this purpose.

When reading papers, concentrate on the size and the costs of the effects being described. Significance can be relevant, but the fact that a paper appeared in a major publication doesn't mean that the effects being described are important or useful. Don't be surprised if the most-cited papers in some area don't actually present the circumstances in which an intervention would be useful. Don't assume that all "significant" effects are relevant or strong.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Financial Crisis: Regulatory Arbitrage

I've been following the financial debacle pretty closely. I can explain a fair part of it, describing all the moving parts and how they interacted and why regulators and participants had a hard time seeing that their individual parts in it would lead to a calamity given what everyone else was doing. The main message is that it didn't start and end with the housing bubble and crash. The bubble had causes, (and the legislators behind it aren't backing off; they continue to think that more people should own houses whether they can afford them or not) and so did the crash.

But I've had a hard time summarizing the whole thing and naming a single root cause (other than vague "government interference in the markets") or a suggestion for what should be done differently that would lead to different outcomes next time. The whole thing seems so complex, and everyone in it merely responds to local incentives so it's hard to see what different incentives would lead to a a more stable outcome.

But I recently followed a pointer to an article by a group at NYU who gave a good summary and pointed to one of the parts of my story as the root cause, and I now think they're right. The root cause was regulatory arbitrage at the banks. Regulatory arbitrage describes actions someone takes in order to avoid the affects of some set of regulations that might apply to them if they ran their business differently. Rather than buying some asset in a jurisdiction where it is taxed, you have a subsidiary buy it, or you buy an option, or you buy a company that already owns it. If one kind of institution can't engage in a certain practice that looks like it'll make money, then people will invent a new kind of institution that's subject to different regulators which isn't so prohibited.

Part of my long riff on the crash has been that practically every financial institution that exists now is the result of regulatory arbitrage of some kind. Consumer banks accept deposits, but their activities are tightly regulated in order to qualify for deposit insurance, so commercial banks don't take deposits from consumers. Credit Unions have a different set of restrictions on their activities. Savings and Loans were restricted in the interest they could charge on loans, so when they had to compete on the interest they paid on deposits, they took excessive risks leading to the S&L crisis. Commercial bank investments are regulated and limited, so there are investment banks. Those have their own regulations, so we saw the rise of hedge funds which didn't have to report to anyone except their investors.

The regulatory arbitrage at the root of this crisis was that the consumer banks were restricted in what assets they can hold and what assets they can sell. So the mortgage-backed securities (MBS) they were selling stripped out the lucrative part of the loan repayment income stream and sold that for cash they could use to make more loans, while they ended up keeping the riskiest part on their books. Most of them found tools that appeared to insure against the remaining risks, but those were systemically flawed--all the banks relied on the same few institutions, and their back-up plans would only have worked if problems were isolated. When the crunch came it was general, and so all the back-up plans failed together.

As the NYU group said, "They were in effect equivalent to writing out-of-the-money put options on aggregate crises." In plain English, that means the insurers were selling assets that allowed their counter-parties to demand money from them if certain events took place. Initially, those seemed unlikely. Unfortunately, the events that would trigger the payout were defined so that when enough policies were written, only a general failure would suffice to pull the trigger. What wasn't obvious until later was that the combination of bank loan practices (required by regulators) and hedging strategies made that general failure more likely. An important thing to realize is that neither the regulators nor the banks realized when they introduced the instruments that this would be the outcome. They weren't knowingly making a heads-I-win,-tails-you-lose bet in the beginning. When you've only written the first few policies, the systemic risk is small. The risk grew as an ever-increasing number of institutions bought insurance against the same contingencies from the same counterparty. Normally, insurance companies reinsure to spread the risk to other companies, but AIG held all the credit default swaps itself.

Most of the recommendations from the NYU group make sense. More regulation, better regulation, or smarter regulators wouldn't have made anything better, and won't solve the problem next time either. Part of the dynamic with regulatory arbitrage includes regulatory capture: we have to assume that the regulations and the regulators will eventually be in the pockets of the regulated industry. The experienced people in any industry have the most information and interest in the details, so they're the natural experts to address any problems and to oversee any restrictions. The approach that can work is a set of regulations that requires visibility so that customers, clients, competitors, and counter-parties can see what their exposure is. These are the parties with a stake in the outcome who were stymied in the run-up to the debacle. Another principal is to change the nature of the compensation traders and bankers receive so that their incentives favor the long term stability of their institutions rather than short-term results. This is hard to set up, but possible: one idea is to pay bonuses in a long-term asset that vests slowly.

It's still a complex vexing subject, but understanding how regulatory arbitrage was an underlying cause at least provides a guideline to evaluating proposals to address the problem as we go forward. Bad solutions attempt to forbid certain kinds of actions or investments, since they provide an incentive to find a new kind of institution that can exploit the abandoned opportunity. It's better, when we detect a kind of transaction that is destabilizing in one way or another to find a way to allow it that makes its impact and extent visible and provides incentives to moderate the impact. That's not easy, and it's probably not the direction that regulators and legislators will want to go, but forbidding lucrative practices doesn't prevent them, it drives them underground and out of sight.

Monday, February 09, 2009

Iain Banks: Matter

Iain Banks' Matter is set in his Culture universe, and it's nearly as interesting as the best of the Culture novels. The high point of Matter is seeing people (and entities) at different technological levels interacting and moving back and forth between societies. The main focus is the Sarl, an industrializing society living on level 8 of Sursamen, an immense shellworld, and their war of conquest with one of their neighbors. The Sarl are getting help from a more advanced species, and being led to believe their own abilities are behind their successes. The royal family has a daughter Djan who was taken away and adopted by Special Circumstances, which gives a reason for them to have someone on the scene, even though Sursamen is outside their sphere of influence.

I think this is the first time we have directly seen that Banks' Culture universe includes competing civilizations at the level of the Culture. Previously we'd been led to believe that the Culture was an over-arching universal civilization that enforced a live-and-let-live stable peace among all species. Now we see that there are others at the level of the Culture, and the Morthenveld are powerful enough that the Culture mostly leaves their sectors and galaxies alone. When a Special Circumstances agent wants to visit a region under Morthenveld control she has to give up most of her powerful built-in weapons, skills, and communications devices.

Amid the local politics, and while following Djan's perigrinations as she attempts to return to Sursamen to find out what happened in the wake of her father's death, we discover that a deeper plot is afoot. Vast forces gather in darkness and secrecy, and Djan has to figure out what their goal is decide whether their plans are aligned with or opposed to those of the Culture before deciding what action to take.

The story has great descriptions of vast stellar constructions, many interacting civilizations, species and people. One of the things I like about the Culture novels is that even though we get to see grand conflicts in the foreground of the stories, it's clear that they are just the front page news of far bigger civilizations with vast abilities and gazillions of citizens, who mostly interact through peaceful commerce. We see a bit of that in a visit to a Morthenveld nestworld, which is huge beyond the scale of the entire Culture civilization.

While the book was nominated for this year's Prometheus award, I don't think it'll be a strong contender. It's perfectly sympathetic to libertarian goals and tastes, but the big conflicts don't directly apply to any hot-button issues. The book is very well written and a lot of fun to read, but this year there are books with a much tighter focus on out-of-control totalitarian governments to contend with, and Banks' Matter doesn't play in that arena.