Monthly Archives: May 2016

I may be late to the party, but is this Moldbug in 2006 predicting the 2008 recession? I don’t know enough about finance to understand the details of the conversation, but CPDOs seem to be a play on credit default swaps, so Moldbug is obviously playing the prophet here.

The Big Short oversold the narrative that NO ONE SAW THIS COMING. Plenty of people saw it coming, but their voices were drowned out by the bulls, and, in fairness to Michael Lewis, it is true that only his protagonists actually bet their money on the housing bubble bursting.

At any rate, here’s Moldbug’s comment in full, posted 30 December 2006. 


The big picture in CPDOs is that they are a classic example of government failure. Nothing like a CPDO could possibly exist in an unregulated economy. Of course, that doesn’t mean the best choice for this far-from-unregulated economy isn’t to find some way of regulating the damn things out of existence. But fortunately this is not my job.

CPDOs exist because NRSROs exist. Rating agencies (Moody’s, S&P) are not private actors. They are granted enormous official authority. Imagining the market price of NRSRO status, sold with no questions asked – for example, to a company which could shake down its clients for ratings – is one way to conceive of the scale of this delegation of power.

In a transparent, professional system of government such as ours, authority of this kind must never be personal and arbitrary. Old John Moody, perhaps, could tell his customers that Joe’s Railroad was a shoddy outfit run by notorious shysters, whose bonds shouldn’t be touched with a ten-foot pole no matter how many payments they’ve made. If his successors rate JRX, they have to justify their result with some serious math. Nothing else would be compatible with “nationally recognized” status.

As Mises pointed out in the ’20s, excessive dependency on calculation is the general flaw in central planning. The planners are constantly being forced to calculate things that cannot possibly be calculated. Credit default probabilities, especially aggregate spread projections, are a classic example.

So Moody’s can’t issue a report saying that these CPDO things just don’t smell right. It can’t call Stratfor, get a ballpark number on the chance of an Israeli-Iranian war, and factor that into the probability of a generalized credit panic. It has to do what it does – run the things through its models. Which predict, as usual, future results from past performance.

And it’s not just that Moody’s has to do this. It’s that it can do this. Because it is effectively a government agency, it has transferred all of its risk for this behavior to the state. It is Uncle Sam that will take the hit if the models fail, and rightly so. Moody’s only existential risk is failure to comply with its own properly approved policies and procedures.

Fortunately, Uncle Sam is perfectly capable of insuring the risk of the models. He can, after all, print more dollars. Which will then be used to buy bonds – keeping those spreads svelte. Moreover, with this same mechanism, he can stimulate the economy, keeping the people who actually have to make their payments flush.

This is a perfect example of an expansionary ratchet. It is a political mechanism that causes immediate pain if the presses are stopped. Hyperinflation happens because the political cost of a liquidating recession exceeds the political cost of continuing around the spiral. Systems that increase sensitivity to default, like the system that the CPDO is gaming, make the spiral harder to escape.

In other words, the more CPDOs are outstanding, the more stress the financial system will suffer in the case of a sharp credit spread widening that overpowers the “stabilizing” reaction when the CPDOs automatically react by selling protection. The CPDO machine sets up a critical point, below which it is a “stabilizing” feedback loop that causes spreads to converge (as CPDOs gear up), and above which it is a thoroughly destabilizing one, that causes them to diverge (as CPDOs max out and fail).

It is, in other words, major “bubble skin.” The lovely old metaphor of a bubble, which really just means “disequilibrium,” can easily be extended to other materials than the usual soapy water. If your bubble is made out of latex, for example, it can get much bigger and sustain a much higher internal pressure. It is harder to pop, but it makes more noise when it does.

With CPDOs, and ultimately with the power of the printing press, the bubble is the size of the Hindenburg, its interior could easily be mistaken for the atmosphere of Jupiter, and its walls are Kevlar and nanotubes. As Steve says, it is very hard to break.

And it is very important to note that it is not just the personal whim of “bulimic CBs” that supports it – it itself enforces exactly that bulimia. The bubble skin is not really the critical point of the CPDOs. It is the fact that CBs cannot allow spreads to reach that critical point.

For all the hawkish talk, they will accept any level of consumer price inflation first. It is much easier to tweak the index again (maybe it could just be the GCPI, the Game Console Price Index, measured in triangles per second per dollar) and suffer the occasional human-interest story in the Times or Post about how the man on the street thinks prices are too high, despite the fact that there is no inflation.

So fasten your seatbelts, everyone. If I am even close to right, there are no brakes on this thing, and we are headed north in a hurry. It may be a happy 2007 indeed.


Nick Land’s latest musings on independence, dependence, and connectivity got me thinking about networks.

Briefly, Land recasts the Left/Right dichotomy not in terms of individualism and collectivism but in terms of independence and dependence. While the Left, he writes, is “enthused” by interdependency while merely “accepting” a degree of comparative independence, the Right, in reverse, is enthused by independence but accepts a comparative degree of inter-dependency.

Independence, Land continues, is a rough synonym for sovereignty. I would add that independence is a rough synonym for power. Independence means I can do or get what I want. Of course, power is always constrained (by the laws of physics if not by other humans), so a degree of interdependency is always there to constrain independence. However, ideologies emphasize one constraint over the other. Do we emphasize inter-dependence and admit a degree of independence here and there? Or do we emphasize independence and admit a degree of inter-dependence here and there?

Wendy Chun, a media professor at Brown, provides the ultimate Left emphasis on inter-dependence in her book Programmed Visions. In the book’s conclusion, Chun attempts to define freedom as an immersion in larger human collectives, arguing that true (political) freedom may in fact rightly curtail “economic and civil freedom” by undoing the “autonomous subject.” She illustrates her point with a story from an individual who, taking part in a mass protest in the Philippines, was at first frightened by but eventually at one with the throngs of humanity surrounding her:

I was caught in the thick waves of people far from the center of the rally. I could barely breathe from the weight of the bodies pressing on my back and sides . . . After what seemed like an eternity of extremely small movements, slowly, slowly, there appeared a clearing before me. I was grateful not because I survived but because I experienced the discipline and respect of one for the other of the people—there was no pushing, no insulting, everyone even helped each other, and a collective patience and giving way ruled.

. . . The night deepened . . . While resting on the sidewalk, I felt such immense pleasure, safe from danger, free, happy in the middle of thousands and thousands of anonymous buddies.

Thus the individual found safety and happiness amidst an anonymous mass of humanity that operated upon a principle of “giving way.”

Taken in a moral direction, the story might illustrate a pseudo-Buddhist parable on the importance of abandoning one’s ego so that others might live and that all might live together in peace. However, taken in a political direction—which is where Chun takes it—the story illustrates an ideological emphasis on inter-dependence that only allows a small degree of independence to exist within the confines of (and only when subordinated to) that larger system of dependence.

Being immersed in a massive crowd—whether or not it’s orderly—is for me a vision of hell, but for Chun, it becomes a metaphor for the philosophical ground of political freedom at the expense of independence. Someone like me, who would be darting for the nearest exit, the nearest way out of that crowd, is, in Chun’s estimation, subverting larger political freedoms through my insistent obsession with independence.

. . . However, let’s reorient the story and its object lesson a little and totally undermine what Chun is trying to do with it.

The individual in the crowd, we read, feels safe and at peace with the crowd only once it has given her a way through or made room for her . . . that is, she finds freedom in the crowd only once she has been given space and granted a place of independence. Presumably, what she does in that space is up to her, so as long as what she’s doing doesn’t invade other spaces, she is also granted a place of sovereignty. Maybe she wants to invite some other people into her space; she’s not a rugged individualist, after all. (She will probably not invite everyone into her space, though, because then it’s not her space anymore; she’s not an idiot, either.)

The mass of humanity is a given. How we divide that humanity in space—and I’m thinking here both in literal geographic terms as well as more abstract political terms—determines our ideology.

Network theory gives us some basic terms:


Given the mass of humanity, we have three ways to divide it: one node rules and subordinates all the other nodes—a centralized network; all nodes are clustered discriminately into autonomous communities—a decentralized network (or, more commonly, a scale-free network); or all nodes are in equal connection—an ordered network.

In the centralized network, independence and sovereignty are granted only to one node, be it a person (i.e., monarchy) or a small elite (i.e., oligarchy). In a decentralized network, local clusters are granted independence from other local clusters, and sovereignty exists only locally; it does not expand outward (i.e., patchwork governance). In an ordered, lattice-like network, sovereignty is nonexistent—a function of the fact that hierarchy is nonexistent—and every node is equally not subordinated. Chun would have us believe that every node in this network would therefore be free, but by that same token, every node is equally positioned to control every other node (i.e., the world is just as easily its own tyranny as its own utopia).

Chun, I imagine, wants a political system that embodies an ordered, lattice-like network. No hierarchy, no clustering, no radical differences in node connection (or degree). The ordered network is the Leftist, inter-dependency ideology personified.

Given the networks above, we might also posit that differences among Right-wing political ideologies are partially reducible to a preference for centralized or decentralized sovereignty networks. Is there one ring to rule them all? Or does each ring only work among its own people? Is true independence granted to a privileged elite? Or does independence simply mean a freedom from other communities, a freedom from other ways-of-doing-things.

I have simplified network theory quite a bit here, but it gives us a starting point by which political ideology—and, in particular, independence and sovereignty—can be explored through network visualizations. One major point I’ve left out is centrality, particularly betweenness centrality, which, in a decentralized network, denotes those nodes that control the movement from one cluster to another. I’ll save centrality measurements for another post because I’m still not quite sure how they map onto this political metaphor.


America is the problem that the USA was designed to solve, the door that the USA closes, the proper name for a society born from flight.

With apologies to its oft-cited counterpart, “Lure of the Void” is, in my view, the most profound of Nick Land’s Shanghai essays. In fact, I think “D.E.” is better understood as the prologue to “Void” rather than “Void” being the epilogue to “D.E.” Read it. Then read it again. Then, for Earthbound context, read everything on dynamic geography (or patchwork governance), entropy (also entropy export), and the degenerative ratchet.

Lure of the Void (.docx) (.pdf)