Brian Doherty | June 19, 2009
(Page 2 of 2)
Madoff is the nearest analog to Kreuger in the current market-collapse morality play, with high-payoffs that could not ultimately be sustained, floating on the sweet success of success. Madoff proved that confident, charismatic men who can fake their way through the appearance of great success with larceny in their hearts will continue to break hearts and break banks.
Partnoy makes the convincing case that with better luck Kreuger’s game could have worked out. He was at root a successful industrialist who overextended himself and made some crazy promises. He then made some unfortunate decisions about how to cover his ass when things didn’t work out (like forging Italian treasury bonds when Mussolini declined a Kreuger match monopoly for his nation), but wasn't a crook from start to finish.
Kreuger was an early innovator in such potentially confusing—but often lucrative—investment vehicles as the class-B non-voting share, the participating preferred share, and the convertible debenture derivative. For those not used to dealing with such concepts, even Partnoy’s skilled explanations might leave you thinking that Kreuger must have been pulling a fast one, relying on a strategy of confusing investors.
But it didn’t take Kreuger’s complications to create the situation where everyone from the savviest investment bankers to man-in-the-street-investors to the president of the United States fell for his charms and successes. It was simple naivety, seeking the main chance, and an unwillingness to be left on shore when the good ship lollipop sailed. As long as those are aspects of human nature, no amount of regulation will save markets from people like Ivar Kreuger, master industrialist and master financial criminal.
As Partnoy writes, after Kreuger, “the era of laissez-faire self-regulation was over.” But did that era even exist? Much like in Kreuger's time, we still have a Fed manipulating interest rates for political gains, we still have government making and influencing most big economic decisions, and we still have human greed, ignorance, foolishness, and mistakes.
In his suicide note Kreuger wrote, "I have made such a mess of things that I believe this to be the most satisfactory solution for everybody concerned.” If only those government officials and financiers who today believe we should all be on the hook for their mistakes would be as noble about their institutions’ fates as Kreuger was about his personal one.
Senior Editor Brian Doherty is author of This is Burning Man (BenBella), Radicals for Capitalism (PublicAffairs) and Gun Control on Trial (Cato Institute).
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The post ends rather abruptly with a comment about how Kreuger
hid half the profits.
Is Doherty hiding half the post?
Here's the full text, which is truncated by some bad HTML, but
can be recovered from the source of the page. (Reason folks, feel
free to delete when you fix the problem)
As America is sprawled in the dirt, stunned and battered by turmoil
in its financial markets, Frank Portnoy, a law and finance
professor at the University of San Diego and previously author of
Infectious Greed: How Deceit and Risk Corrupted the Financial
Markets, looks back at a mighty industrialist and financier of the
1920s and '30s, Ivar Kreuger, in his new book The Match King: Ivar
Kreuger, the Financial Genius Behind a Century of Wall Street
Scandals.
Portnoy convincingly frames Kreuger as the fountainhead of modern
financial shenanigans and crimes, and the proximate cause of "the
securities laws that govern today's markets." Yes, despite what you
may have heard, Portnoy makes a case that it wasn't the 1929 crash
or the Great Depression that prompted New Deal innovations in
financial market regulations. Rather, it was the disgraceful and
mysterious fall of Swedish man of money and mystery Kreuger, known
as "the Match King," whose various companies' securities were owned
in the early 1930s by more Americans-and Earthlings-than any
other.
Kreuger started in the building trades. Later, the humble safety
match (which only ignites if struck against its own box, rather
than against any old surface) became the linchpin of his sprawling
international empire. That empire made him as famous as Lindbergh,
a consort to Garbo, and filled him with a sense of grandiosity that
made him loathe to ever leave well enough alone. In that last
characteristic, at least, he's a blood brother to the U.S.
government that never got a chance to try him for his frauds, even
as the government reshaped its financial regulatory system in
reaction to those frauds.
Kreuger rose from a working class background in Sweden to, in the
1920s, become likely one of the richest men in the world. He was a
wise friend and advisor to King Gustav of Sweden and President
Herbert Hoover, and a self-made man who won the hearts (and cash
flow) of snooty blue-bloods in the highest echelons of Boston
banking (he particularly delighted in being a thorn in the side of
the Morgan banking interests). He was a man with the charisma (and
success) to engender what in retrospect was a foolish level of
trust. He also managed to inspire Ayn Rand's 1930s antinomian
mystery play of a Swedish tycoon's death, The Night of January
16th.
Trust was the key, because Kreuger's operations were all about
Kreuger. Only he knew where the money came from and went to.
(Portnoy writes of a corporate report in which "half the company's
profits were listed simply as 'earnings from various
transactions.'") He played his American auditor like a beloved pet,
bribing him with both paid vacations and deeply craved attention.
Kreuger had to keep auditors at bay, because he played an elaborate
game of shifting cash from American concerns to Swedish ones (and
on to secretive ones in Lichtenstein) in order to keep paying off
the wildly huge dividends-usually 25 percent or more yearly-that
endeared him to investors.
If things were getting dicey and the more prudent would have
thought of cutting dividends, Kreuger, no ordinary man, would raise
them in order to maintain investor confidence, ensuring that
investors would continue to loan money and buy securities from the
Match King's interests.
Portnoy's readers will ultimately find keeping track of the money
as difficult as did his business partners and auditors. (The book
requires flow charts for optimal comprehension of its labyrinthine
but always fascinating tale.) Still, Portnoy tells a story of great
historical importance, fascinating in both business and human
terms, with a winning concision. While Portnoy is mostly
storyteller rather than moralist, he does attempt a quick and
somewhat convincing attempt to partially rehabilitate Kreuger's
reputation.
That reputation was in tatters after his suicide in 1932, on the
afternoon of what would have been a very tense meeting with his
bankers, as attempts to shuffle millions around the globe to meet
his various debts and dividend obligations had finally run out of
wiggle room. His death left behind a tangled and ugly mess of
destroyed investment banks, angry securities holders, and livid
legislators.
But Portnoy points out that unlike such pure fraudsters as Charles
Ponzi, who claimed to be arbitraging international postal coupons
to pay off investors but was merely paying off old ones with
investments from new ones, Kreuger really did have an immensely
valuable set of properties and businesses. Securities holders of
his supposedly "fraudulent" empire in some cases made off better
than the average investor in a generally grim early 1930s
market.
Portnoy doesn't make a big deal of it, but alert readers will note
that underlying Kreuger's whole system was not the actions of the
unregulated free market but the actions of government. He notes
that 1920s stock manias were undergirded by Federal Reserve
flooding markets with cash. And Kreuger was in his biggest
operations an agent and helpmeet of the state all the way.
His largest fame and success came from a hubristic desire to beat
the Morgan banking interests-and enrich himself and his
stockholders-via loaning huge amounts of money to impecunious
European governments, in exchange for national monopolies in
match-making and sales. Every step of his downward path to suicide
was paved not with free-market transactions, but with government
ukases, special favors, and backroom deals with public officials.
By the end, he was a match monopolist for 24 nations and had loaned
$300 million to sovereigns. Little wonder John Maynard Keynes, on
Kreuger's death, called him "perhaps the greatest constructive
business intelligence of his age"
That much of Kreuger's business came via government monopoly deals
served him well in putting off his business partners, who tended to
ask pesky questions about from where the money was coming and to
where it was going. Kreuger would simply insist his business
dealings were sensitive matters of state that could not be widely
bruited about.
In revisiting a story of high finance malfeasance-one so huge in
its day that Portnoy is stunned Americans could have ever forgotten
it-one can't help but mine it for contemporary relevance, though
Portnoy doesn't do much of this. Knowing the exigencies of book
researching, writing, and publishing, doubtless the book was
substantially done before Bear Stearns or Lehman Brothers fell. But
there are still valuable lessons in Kreuger's tale for those who
think we can regulate ourselves to a financial market free from
substantially damaging frauds or mistakes.
Start by noting that the set of securities laws enacted in the wake
of Kreuger's fall (as Portnoy notes, "when Congress began to
discuss the securities laws, the debate began with Ivar, not the
crash") by no means created a paradise where no poor, ignorant yutz
of investor might lose his shirt through foolish risk or misleading
statements or lies from securities sellers (Hello, Enron; hello,
Bernie Madoff).
The lessons, then, are clear and timeless. Speculating is risky;
playing a game where a force outside your control (the Federal
Reserve) can make more chips and distribute them at will is
especially dangerous; and even controls and regulations designed to
make sure that highly reputable financial instruments are on the
level is not sufficient to prevent enormous market downturns that
cost lots of people lots of money.
Madoff is the nearest analog to Kreuger in the current
market-collapse morality play, with high-payoffs that could not
ultimately be sustained, floating on the sweet success of success.
Madoff proved that confident, charismatic men who can fake their
way through the appearance of great success with larceny in their
hearts will continue to break hearts and break banks.
Portnoy makes the convincing case that with better luck Kreuger's
game could have worked out. He was at root a successful
industrialist who overextended himself and made some crazy
promises. He then made some unfortunate decisions about how to
cover his ass when things didn't work out (like forging Italian
treasury bonds when Mussolini declined a Kreuger match monopoly for
his nation), but wasn't a crook from start to finish.
Kreuger was an early innovator in such potentially confusing-but
often lucrative-investment vehicles as the class-B non-voting
share, the participating preferred share, and the convertible
debenture derivative. For those not used to dealing with such
concepts, even Portnoy's skilled explanations might leave you
thinking that Kreuger must have been pulling a fast one, relying on
a strategy of confusing investors.
But it didn't take Kreuger's complications to create the situation
where everyone from the savviest investment bankers to
man-in-the-street-investors to the president of the United States
fell for his charms and successes. It was simple naivety, seeking
the main chance, and an unwillingness to be left on shore when the
good ship lollipop sailed. As long as those are aspects of human
nature, no amount of regulation will save markets from people like
Ivar Kreuger, master industrialist and master financial
criminal.
As Portnoy writes, after Kreuger, "the era of laissez-faire
self-regulation was over." But did that era even exist? Much like
in Kreuger's time, we still have a Fed manipulating interest rates
for political gains, we still have government making and
influencing most big economic decisions, and we still have human
greed, ignorance, foolishness, and mistakes.
In his suicide note Kreuger wrote, "I have made such a mess of
things that I believe this to be the most satisfactory solution for
everybody concerned." If only those government officials and
financiers who today believe we should all be on the hook for their
mistakes would be as noble about their institutions' fates as
Kreuger was about his personal one.
You know what a real financial fraud is?
Fractional Reserve Banking.
Nope, it's not fraud if the depositor is told of it. The problem we
have today is not the fractional reserves, but that there is a
monopoly bank whose fractional reserves are mere entries in a
ledger.
Free banking is the way to go. We never really had it in the US,
but other nations have had it and it worked well. The competition
between banks prevents the reserves from getting too low. Larry
White and David Horwitz have some good papers on the topic.
The 100% gold reserves crowd need to stop worshipping the corpse of
Rothbard and get with the liberty program. They confuse banks with
warehouses. You can't have true anarcho-capitalism at the same time
you're dictating what the banks can or cannot store in their
vaults.
While the link to the piece works fine on our end, and we're checking to see what the problem might be, wanted to note that Unter captured an earlier version of the piece in which I CONSISTENTLY MISSPELLED the name of the author of the book, which is actually Frank PARTNOY. That is now fixed in the actual story, which I hope everyone can read....
Mr. Doherty, linky still not working for me.
untermensch, thanks.
Those of us with a leaning toward marxism tend to believe that
nearly everyone at the top does business in this manner both
outside and inside the law.
Of course, Kreuger was the inspiration behind Ayn Rand's play "Penthouse Legend" or "Night of January 16th." In a double-Rand connection, one of Rand's favorite playwrights, Terence Rattigan, was also inspired by the Krueger incident to pen his play: "Man and Boy."
Sorry about somehow capturing the older version, but that was what was actually on site. There was some code in there that broke the HTML, but the content was all there. So I got whatever would have shown up had it not been broken.
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