The last few weeks witnessed the greatest panic I’ve ever seen, as measured by its severity, the range of assets affected, its worldwide scope and the negativity of the accompanying tales of doom. I’ve been through market crashes before, but none attributed to the coming collapse of the world financial system.
It’s worth noting that few of the recent sharp price declines were associated with weakness in the depreciating assets or the companies behind them. Rather, they were the result of market conditions brought on by psychology, technical developments and their interconnection. The worst of them reflected a spiral of declining security prices, mark-to-market tests, capital inadequacy, margin calls, forced selling and failures.
It was readily apparent that such a spiral was underway, and no one could see how or when it might end. That was really the problem: no scenario was too negative to be credible, and any scenario incorporating an element of optimism was dismissed as Pollyannaish.
There was an element of truth in this, of course: nothing was impossible. But in dealing with the future, we must think about two things: (a) what might happen and (b) the probability it will happen.
During the crisis, lots of bad things seemed possible, but that didn’t mean they were going to happen. In times of crisis, people fail to make that distinction. Since we never know much about what the future holds – and in a crisis, with careening causes and consequences, certainly less than ever – we must decide which side of the debate is more likely to be profitable (or less likely to be wrong).
For forty years I’ve seen the manic-depressive cycle of investor psychology swing crazily: between fear and greed – we all know the refrain – but also between optimism and pessimism, and between credulity and skepticism. In general, following the beliefs of the herd – and swinging with the pendulum – will give you average performance in the long run and can get you killed at the extremes.
It’s worth noting that few of the recent sharp price declines were associated with weakness in the depreciating assets or the companies behind them. Rather, they were the result of market conditions brought on by psychology, technical developments and their interconnection. The worst of them reflected a spiral of declining security prices, mark-to-market tests, capital inadequacy, margin calls, forced selling and failures.
It was readily apparent that such a spiral was underway, and no one could see how or when it might end. That was really the problem: no scenario was too negative to be credible, and any scenario incorporating an element of optimism was dismissed as Pollyannaish.
There was an element of truth in this, of course: nothing was impossible. But in dealing with the future, we must think about two things: (a) what might happen and (b) the probability it will happen.
During the crisis, lots of bad things seemed possible, but that didn’t mean they were going to happen. In times of crisis, people fail to make that distinction. Since we never know much about what the future holds – and in a crisis, with careening causes and consequences, certainly less than ever – we must decide which side of the debate is more likely to be profitable (or less likely to be wrong).
For forty years I’ve seen the manic-depressive cycle of investor psychology swing crazily: between fear and greed – we all know the refrain – but also between optimism and pessimism, and between credulity and skepticism. In general, following the beliefs of the herd – and swinging with the pendulum – will give you average performance in the long run and can get you killed at the extremes.
-
....................
-
Related link: The Tide Goes Out
-