Here are two incontrovertible perceptions about our age: Complexity is rising, and trust is ebbing.
Take these perceptions separately and each strikes us as obvious. Take them together and we can see why the crisis in the mutual fund industry raises such alarm.
The rise of complexity is easy to document. It’s evident in technology, with the increases in the speed and power of computers. And it’s evident in the sciences, where cellular biology vies with cosmology and quantum mechanics to present the most gee-whiz discoveries. Watching today’s proliferation of intricate, exacting, and detailed ideas, I wonder whether experts in any of these fields can comprehend the other fields — the way scientists in the 1950s could read Scientific American and grasp each others’ conceptual territories.
The ebbing of trust is similarly easy to trace. From Enron and Arthur Andersen to Sammy Sosa and Kobe Bryant, from Jayson Blair to the Catholic Church, we’re spiraling downward into a perceived collapse of fidelity and integrity. When both individuals and institutions fail us, much of what we thought we could count on seems destined to let us down.
If either of these trends existed alone, we could get by. As long as the world didn’t seem impossibly complex, we could survive without trusted advisers. We’d simply figure things out for ourselves. And we’d do fine in a complex world as long as we could trust those who understood it to run it properly.
The problem comes when the trends intersect and complexity meets distrust. That’s what the mutual fund crisis is all about.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not arguing that mutual funds are as complex as quantum theory. But complexity is relative. Consider the sheer size of this fund industry, with some $7 trillion under management. Think about the speed at which its transactions operate through a subtle set of interrelations in a complicated global trading universe.
More importantly, consider the penetration of mutual funds, in which 95 million Americans — half the nation’s households — hold investments. A lot of employees with holdings in these funds don’t think of themselves as “investors.” Investors spend their evenings learning about financial matters. Ordinary employees do other things. They may not even realize that the news about mutual funds actually applies to them. In the old days, they understood putting money in a savings account or under a mattress. Today, the relative complexity of financial matters is baffling, so they leave their money management to people they trust.
Or thought they could trust. That’s why the current collapse of confidence is so significant. Unless families are prepared to learn a lot about financial markets, they’ll have to depend on trusted advisers. When that trust fails, the massive structure we’ve created to promote retirement savings — and the huge amounts of capital thereby available to fuel the economy — is at risk.
Little wonder, then, that Arthur Levitt, chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) from 1993 to 2001, is so upset about the mutual funds mess. “What’s happening today,” he told the public television program “Wall Street Week with Fortune” last Friday, “is the most outrageous of any of the violations of any of the frauds we’ve seen in this century. More people were involved and the nature of the violation was an absolute rip-off of the public.”
That same day, the SEC’s current chairman, William Donaldson, told a group of investment industry professionals in Florida that the Wall Street scandals represented “a fundamental betrayal of our nation’s investors” and that “the securities industry has found itself stuck in a legal and ethical quagmire.” He expressed confidence that investment professionals would “pull the industry out of the muck,” but noted, “You can be sure that if you don’t, those of us in government will.”
The finance community likes formulas, so here’s one: The need for trust increases as the square of the perceived complexity of the financial system. Double the perception of complexity, and you need to quadruple the trustworthiness of those involved. Triple the complexity, and trust needs to grow ninefold.
The present trend is just the reverse. New complexity, it seems, has lowered the trust levels. It has simply provided the villains with new thickets in which to hide. The upshot, we fear, is that those in charge may have been systematically ripping us off. Not ripping off them, the investors, but us, the ordinary folks.
That’s why this ethical collapse is potentially so important. It has a very big footprint. If it’s not quickly contained by regulators and courts, the drain on mutual funds — as millions of ordinary non-investors thrash around without much guidance, trying to find places to put their money when they can’t trust anybody — could be significant. The drain on ethics, whose goal is to promote trust in goodness, could be even greater.
(c)2003 Institute for Global Ethics