Longreads + Open Thread

Progress, Institutions, Robots, Data, Alignment, Indexing, Verification, Debt

Longreads

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Books

Hope Springs Eternal: French Bondholders and the Repudiation of Russian Sovereign Debt: A while ago I stumbled on a wonderful New Yorker article from 1955 about the still-lively market in Russian imperial bonds. The USSR had repudiated their debts soon after the soviets took power, but, decades later, there were still people bidding up bonds in response to news events like Stalin's death. (The brokerage they used, which still exists, was Carl Marks & Co.) Imperial Russian bonds continued to exist in legal limbo for decades, and ended up being a kind of proto-meme asset; the titular character in William Gaddis' J R owns some, for example.

Sovereign debt is a strange financial instrument: most of the time, it's the safest way to lend money in a given local currency, and thus the literal benchmark we use for risk-free interest rates. And then, some of the time, the holder of a sovereign bond is some everyday individual or financial institution who is trying to collect money from someone who a) doesn't want to pay, and b) has a military.

French bondholders in particular faced an intense switch from A to B: in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Paris was a financial center with a particular focus on underwriting this kind of debt, in part because the government wanted to use access to credit as a tool of foreign policy. If they provided cheap credit to allies and expensive loans to countries that they wanted influence over, they'd be able to use money as a form of soft power that could be complementary to hard power.

The sovereign debt market at that time had some features that are completely alien to us today. Right now, the way we typically look at this kind of debt is that if you're lending to unstable countries, you're taking credit risk, whether it's because they're borrowing in someone else's currency and won't be able to service the debt or because they're borrowing in local currency and might inflate it away. There are cases where lenders take aggressive means to collect on money; Elliott Capital got a court in Ghana to seize an Argentinian ship as part of their debt negotiations, for example. Typically, though, the most potent threat bondholders can wield is that they won't buy the next round of bonds. The best illustration of how weird that market used to be came in 1902, when Venezuela defaulted on its debt, a coalition of European countries blockaded the country and bombarded a fort, and the Permanent Court of Arbitration in The Hague ruled that the debt would be restructured and the companies that intervened militarily would collect the most.

So when the Soviets repudiated their debts, French investors saw this as the start of a multi-sided negotiation: the Soviets might lose (sometimes, the big market-moving news was how well or poorly White Russian campaigns were going, or how aggressive Allied intervention was), the French government might make creditors whole itself (rumors about this, too, moved the market), and the Soviets might change their minds (they often hinted that they would).

The book ultimately reaches a neat conclusion: the value of these bonds was surprisingly resilient because the scenarios in which they'd get paid off were so anticorrelated. Allied intervention in the Russian civil war made the Soviets quite reasonably reluctant to bend over backwards financially for their military enemies, but also made it more likely that Russia would be ruled by a more business-friendly dictator instead of an avowedly communist one. By the same token, bad news in for the White Russian side of the civil war was good news about eventual Russian/French rapproachment. And one line of thinking might have been: if a communist revolution can happen in a country without much of a proletariat, surely the rest of Europe can't be far behind. So, don't both selling the bonds: if Russia falls to communism, you're getting zero cents on the dollar for all of your financial assets soon enough, and you can only price the Imperial bonds on the assumption that communism doesn't work out anywhere. The actual outcome was that Russia started making moves to settle up with French lenders in the 1980s, and negotiations took long enough that the USSR collapsed in the meantime and a deal was finally struck in the late 1990s. By that time, these bonds hadn't paid interest in almost a century, and the century in question featured some record-setting bouts of gloabl inflation. In the end, the people who came out ahead were the ones who internalized why stop-losses work: pick a price where, if the asset hits that price, it's clear evidence that you don't understand what drives it and ought to sell and rethink your assumptions. A conservative French investor in the mid 1910s had no idea what the future held, because nobody could have predicted what was coming next. All they could really do is look for evidence that there's information they're missing, and proceed with appropriate caution.

Open Thread

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