Re:Balance -- Jim Peterson

The Airbus A380 as a Risk Assessment Case: Cracked Ribs Do Not Signal Good Health

Cause for concern are reports that European air safety officials have ordered inspections of cracks in the mounting brackets that attach the wings of the Airbus A380 – already a plane with a long history of delays, design issues and cost over-runs.

And if the bland assurances being spun by the manufacturer’s publicists – that “the cracking problem … is not a safety risk in the short- to medium-term” – reflect the company’s risk assessment attitude, then a suppressed but potential catastrophe is a matter of time – a mid-air disintegration with massive casualties and the subsequent grounding of an entire discredited fleet.

I am just winding up a month-long Risk Management teaching engagement, migrating an MBA-level curriculum to a class of undergraduates.[1]

Some recalibration has been involved. At the graduate level of business and law students, our focus is on the broken models and ineffective risk processes that have characterized the worlds of finance and banking, insurance, accountancy and professional services, over the years of the credit crisis. These run through the period -- from the collapse of Bear Stearns to that of MF Global; from rogue trader Jérôme Kerviel at Société Générale to his UBS counterpart, Kweku Adoboli; from the corruption of the American subprime mortgage market to that of Japanese corporate governance at Olympus.

Younger students stay with the basics – the human behaviors by which incentives are skewed, failures are rationalized away, and incipient disasters are hidden under the mistaken illogic that safety and soundness can be inferred, only because a breakdown “hasn’t happened yet.”

The discovery of cracks in the “rib feet” of the A380s presents a long-familiar challenge: what response is proper to the emergent symptoms of a potentially devastating event?

It is all too natural to put up an optimistic face – to admire success and to wish away the language of bad news. But the consequences can be dire:

• The late Steve Jobs may well have paid with his life for his denial-based postponement in treating his pancreatic cancer.

• The Italian liner Costa Concordia would most likely be cruising in comfort, rather than lying as a hulking wreck, had the supervisors tracking its earlier near-shore wanderings acted on the ready GPS data revealing the captain’s record of reckless behavior.

• And the signs of corruption in Bernie Madoff’s Ponzi operation were well within view, both to the SEC and to his investors, had they not chosen to turn blind eyes to the readily apparent.

Historical memory is hard to hold, especially where corporate budgets and profits and bonus payments depend on the wishful avoidance of delays, repairs and caution-based slow-downs.

But for learning directly applicable to the A380 and its cracks, my students have just scrutinized the 1986 case of the space shuttle Challenger – launched to its fatal explosion, before they were born, over the engineers’ objections that cold weather would threaten the flexibility of the eroded O-ring seals on its rocket booster.

The logical flaw in the shuttle case extends: The fact that prior launches had succeeded, despite O-ring erosion, did not provide comfort for future launches under other conditions. No more, that the A380s may have flown so far without incident despite wing bracket cracks – when such potential stresses as severe weather, hard landings or simple future wear-and-tear fatigue would change the failure calculations and render invalid the assumptions underlying margins of safety. 

In other words, paraphrasing with emphasis physicist Richard Feynman on the shuttle, “the A380 rib feet were not designed to crack. Cracking was a clue that something was wrong. Cracking was not something from which safety can be inferred.”  

In the Challenger case, seven astronauts and a space vehicle were lost to the deficiencies in NASA’s risk management. As for the A380, has any learning occurred?

As soon as my final grading is done, I will be uplifting for Paris and a spring-semester teaching gig with law students there.

But not on an A380. In its wounded state, I will be happy to book on the robust aircraft of an American airline.

 

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[1] My thanks and gratitude to the congenial community of Carthage College – faculty, administration, support and especially the students in my seminar – for a welcome and an experience as warm as this unseasonable winter in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

 

The Next Home for International Financial Scandal? If You Can Find It -- It's Malta

I recently made my first visit to the tiny island nation of Malta – once the Mediterranean crossroads of crusaders, smugglers, pirates and profiteers, now better known as a way-stop on the marine route of refugees fleeing coastal North Africa for near-by Sicily and mainland Italy.

My impressions -- of a country and people with much to be modest about -- leave me uneasy, with Malta now touted as headquarters to a rapidly-expanding roster of European-based hedge funds – e.g., here and here.

This is not good news. Because if true, the fuse is lit and sparking on the next explosive weapons of financial destruction.

For all its storied history, today’s Malta is a backwater. The country’s low-wage economy survives on limited tourism for history buffs, and second-language schools serving a heavy demand for English because the native tongue with its Arabic origin and Latin orthography is unlearnably complex, marginalized, and disappearing.

In by far the smallest country in the Euro zone, with a population of 400,000 mainly unprepossessing Catholics, the focus of governance is limited to the legality of divorce. While, as I was told by the under-employed college graduate who drove our taxi from the airport, ”You’ll probably never see a policeman during your visit. There’s so little crime, they go into the parks and sleep in their cars behind the trees.”

Transport on Malta until last summer’s upgrading was dominated by fleets of clapped-out orange and yellow buses, of a vintage more worthy of pre-Castro Cuba than a full-fledged member of the European Union.

The inevitable question asked by a tourist looking over the pervasively sand-colored Italianate architecture is, “Doesn’t a country with aspirations to be taken seriously care enough to wash its cars and clean the dirt off its windows?” To which the prompt and unashamedly self-deprecating answer, “who cares?” is that the prevailing winds off the African desert make a daily layer of dust as inevitable as the sunrise itself.

After centuries of outside dominance, latterly in the form of British colonial oppression until independence in 1964 and eventual troop withdrawal in 1979, a legacy of brain drain and talent flight assures a vacuum of local vision and mediocrity of leadership.

“Maltese” evokes several things – post-Crusade centuries of knightly influence, toy-sized white dogs in the laps of ladies who lunch, and the elusive avian statue that so bedeviled Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade in the eponymous 1941 re-make of Dashiell Hammett’s noir novel. 

What it does not call up is a legitimate industry of well-regulated financial institutions.

So what is nascent, with the explosive growth of a Maltese hedge fund sector, is dangerous regulatory arbitrage – the potential for a rush to the bottom not seen since “regulatory capture” in Antigua and Barbuda laid the foundations for Allen Stanford’s Ponzi scheming, through his purchase of a tin-plated knighthood along with the compliant gate-keepers’ keys to that country’s thatched-cottage banking industry.

The cases are legion that even big-country regulators have been asleep on the watch – from the SEC’s failure to finger Bernie Madoff, to OFHEO’s late-arriving blinking at the sub-prime mortgage trainwrecks of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, to the PCAOB’s belated discovery of something rotten in reverse-merger Chinese public companies coming to America to list on its exchanges.

So the chances that the Maltese have the competence to escape a worse fate, in response to the invading hordes of hedgies in their private jets and sharply tailored suits, are precisely nil.

I have been bold in this space to make an occasional prediction about the expected times and places for outbreaks of unpleasantness – in Islamic finance, a Madoff-related suicide, or the rates of white-collar recidivism exemplified by Barry Minkow’s return to prison – with a record that is almost distressingly robust. 

Readers prepared to files these views on the likelihood of serious mischief erupting on Malta into a time capsule with a three-to-five year seal are invited to check back with me then.

In the meantime, pending the passage of time sufficient to prove me right, prudence suggests that investors seek a home for their hot and mobile Euros other than Malta.   

 

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Lessons in Risk Management: A Broken Clock is Never Right -- It's Just Broken

The national recalibration caused by this weekend's fall-back to standard time is a reminder of the cliché recently repeated by a friend, that: 

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day ….”

Or so it is supposed, for the proposition that some information is better than none at all.

I will spare my friend's identity, since this is not personal. But as studied by my students in Risk Management, it is vitally important to scrutinize both what you know and what you don’t – and not be misled into missing the difference by the invocation of familiar but unexamined verities.

I surveyed my students – who with their PC’s and iPads and smartphones are carrying around an average of 2.5 devices providing them with the hour – of which only a fraction are readable by way of little hands pointing at a circular array of twelve numbers on a dial.

It’s the same in today’s public life: the handsome golden landmark clock in Grand Central Station is an anachronism, superseded by the blinking digital screens of the airport flight announcements, the pulsing scoreboard lights of the sports arenas and the obnoxious talking panels of the typical office elevator.

Even in the classroom for my MBA course, a sleek modern rectangular digital time screen hangs above the door.

Here’s the point: when broken, the ubiquitous digital clocks simply go blank. There is no sense in which, when non-functioning, a dark and empty display can ever be “right.”

So the claim is incomprehensible to anyone raised in a world of digital time-pieces. Baby-boomers are likely the last at risk of being led astray, having grown up with (and still using) analog time-keeping machinery.

At no time in the diurnal cycle is any meaningful time guidance offered by a crashed computer or an uncharged cell phone – or, for that matter, a dead microwave or DVD player or any of the myriad of appliances now equipped with digital clocks on which generations younger than the fogies rely.

The “right twice a day” assertion also suffers a more subtle flaw: How do you know? The question of “right-ness” is only testable by reference to an outside source. Looking at the hands of a broken clocked stopped at the classic “ten-to-two,” you may suspect being late for lunch.  But you can’t know without a working alternative. Whatever its format, no informational value is added by viewing the face of a dysfunctional clock.

The inquiry really needs to go down another layer, though, to the reason for calling on the cliché in the first place.

Examples abound where a little information is actually worse than none, especially where users are lulled into a false sense of security and over-confidence.

Unmarked and narrow country roads suffer a lower rate of fatal vehicle accidents, for example, than high-speed expressways, even if the latter are fitted with lane markers and rumble strips and crash barriers, precisely because the rural lanes demand high degrees of focus and attention, prudence and speed discretion.

Equally, day traders seduced by computer-generated graphs and charts of stock price activities are lured into the misapprehension that the flood of data is a reliable measure for predictability, only to crash and fail at the rate of amateur punters in a casino.

And on a global scale since 2007, the road to financial ruin has been littered with the reputational corpses of those who mistakenly believed that the quants’ “value-at-risk” models and their off-spring sufficed to support their portfolios of exotic financial products – among them, Jimmy Cayne of Bear Stearns, Chuck Prince of Citi, Dick Fuld of Lehman Brothers and most lately, Jon Corzine at MF Global.

Which is not to say that there is nothing at all to learn from a clear-eyed acknowledgement of the limits on the knowable. But more likely than an unexamined repetition of a maxim that is both conventional and therefore probably wrong, let the inquiry seek wisdom from the more humble perspective of the counsels of caution. 

PS: An invitation: send me your suggestions for other clichés worthy of attention and deflation. Thanks.

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UBS: Roguery at the Bank Provides a Teaching Moment

Kweku Adoboli has done me a great favor.

Many others could not say the same. They include Oswald Grüber, Carsten Kengeter and Maureen Miskovic – the chief executive, head of investment banking and senior risk officer of UBS – whose balance sheet the 31-year-old trader has blown up to the tune of $ 2.3 billion, through the unimaginative if devastating use of fictitious customer trades to mask his massive wrong-way bets on the S&P 500 and other major indices.

While Adolboli will stay another month in custody in London, and Grüber’s team of gnomes in Zurich begin the extended process of damage assessment and control of this latest outbreak at the troubled bank, I have the privilege of bringing to a seminar at the University of Chicago Law School the MBA-level course in Risk Management I have taught at business schools these last three years.

Arrested on the third anniversary of the collapse of Lehman Brothers, Adoboli not only lets me throw out the opening pages of my introductory lecture notes, on the inevitable eruption of large-scale unmanaged risks in complex systems. He also replaces Société Générale’s Jérôme Kerviel as a final exam topic on the test question, “Where’s the rogue?” 

In the law school environment, we will explore the proposition freshly demonstrated at UBS, that compliance-oriented risk systems – limited in concept, execution and assurance to the narrow and unsatisfactory conclusion that “most things are working, most of the time” – are both wasteful and ineffective to detect or deter an existential threat.

It’s as true for a rogue trader as for a suicide terrorist: doing pat-downs or box-ticks of an entire population, whether grandmothers on airplanes or bank clerks writing customer orders, will not stop the dangerous deviant capable of causing a blow-up – however much those intrusive and costly procedures may serve the political goal of lulling both leaders and constituents into a false if harassed sense of security.

In context of Adoboli’s shenanigans, said to date back to 2008 when UBS itself was bailed out of the consequences of its ill-fated venture into subprime mortgage-backed derivatives, on through its climb-down before the Justice Department over the business of sheltering US taxpayers, there is painful irony in reading the bank’s self-congratulation on the subject of its risk management. Take, for example, excerpts from its 2010 annual report:

“Operational risk is the risk resulting from inadequate or failed internal processes, human error and systems failure, or from external causes (deliberate, accidental or natural). Events may be manifested as direct financial losses or indirectly in the form of revenue forgone as a result of business suspension. They may also result in damage to our reputation and to our franchise causing longer term financial consequences.

“Managing risk is a core element of our business activities, and operational risk is an inevitable consequence of being in business. Our aim is not to eliminate every source of operational risk, but to provide a framework that supports the identification and assessment of all material operational risks and their potential concentrations in order to achieve an appropriate balance between risk and return.

“… Management, in all functions, is responsible for establishing an appropriate operational risk management environment, including the establishment and maintenance of robust internal controls and a strong risk culture.” (All emphasis added.)

With that, a question could be posed to Mr. Grüber concerning the bank’s reported 2010 payment of fees to Ernst & Young of 67.4 million Swiss francs ($ 59 million at today’s exchange), of which CHF 58.5 million were classified as audit, to obtain the latest annual version of a standard auditor’s report:

“With hindsight, how badly would you have wished to re-direct some portion of that audit fee to an engagement to conduct a precise and effectively directed, root-and-branch scrutiny of the condition of the controls at the sections of your bank having potential to inflict multi-billion dollar harm?”

Because herein lies the puzzle, about the unavailability of such valuable assurance to replace today’s outmoded commodity product:

In launching its concept release on the auditors’ report, Public Company Accounting Oversight Board chairman James Doty’s June 21, 2011 statement acknowledged “generalized investor dissatisfaction with the pass-fail model, and generalized frustration with auditors who had issued unqualified opinions on the financial statements of banks that later failed.”

And yet -- the entire community of financial statement issuers, users, regulators and auditors remain committed to what one comment letter notes as “the PCAOB’s intent to retain the current (‘pass/fail’) form of the auditor’s report.” As stated, there is “overwhelming support from all stakeholder groups for retaining this long-standing approach to auditor reporting.”

Why?

Kweku Adoboli now stands as poster boy for the unrecognized urgency of replacing that model.

 

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Racing to Avoid a Crash: On the Track -- On the Street

There’s a stack of final papers in my Risk Management course – and an apero on the sunny terrace of the neighborhood café, to ease the grading process.

And a fond wish for one more class session, to dissect last weekend’s lesson in the disastrous consequences of bad risk assessment and choice-making under high-stress competitive conditions.

It happened at Sunday’s Indianapolis 500. Rookie driver JR Hildebrand had a comfortable lead going into the final lap. But instead of riding easily to victory, he attempted a high pass of a slower car on the very last corner, crashed into the wall, and slid his wreck to a second-place finish – passed by the doubtless astounded Dan Wheldon, on whom Hildebrand’s error of judgment and the fickle gods of fate bestowed a gift beyond imagination.

Aggressive, brave or foolish – the high cost of immature enthusiasm under “win or crash” analysis is not rare. Recall the Olympic gold medal that snowboarder Lindsey Jacobellis threw away on her final run at Turin in 2006, with her ill-advised showboating stunt attempt on the last bump.

My class of MBA and Finance students focuses on lessons from highly-consequential decisions, especially in failure situations – drawn from many fields into the worlds of commerce and professional services, where most will eventually work, and where senior leaders charged with risk responsibility have performed so poorly over the last four years.

From Hildebrand’s split-second choice – now part of racing lore and a life-long mark on his career record, they would take at least these two:

First, the skills and energy of the young are to be recognized and respected; a new hot-shot does command attention and can achieve greatness, whether in sport or government or a trading room. But as events at Indy showed, the converse is no less valid. Beginner’s luck is no substitute for seasoned strategy, and those surviving to accumulate the scars of experience bring wisdom that tempers rash choices.

Provided Hildebrand does learn his risk/reward lesson, in other words, he is not likely to repeat it.

Therein lies learning for business and financial disciplines, still struggling past the recent crisis. The tragically short time horizon of the designers of exotic derivatives, and the exclusion from the quants’ risk models of events beyond their recollection, created the conditions for the crushing impact of events erroneously thought to be unforeseeable.

The second lesson from Hildebrand’s choice-making looks at the structure of his decision matrix: a binary choice -- “try to pass” or “lay off” -- but with alternative and different benefits and detriments for each.

The consequences of playing safe and cautious were in his favor: there was no downside, as he was at no risk of being overtaken, and to cruise safely meant a checkered flag.

In choosing to charge the corner, on the other hand, he had negligible upside – he was already holding a dominant lead – while, as events proved, the downside of being unsuccessful was catastrophic.

(Take note, of course, that the calculation could alter dramatically – if, for one case, he was trailing and needed a last-minute pass to advance, or if he was tightly shadowed and at risk of losing his lead.)

The metaphor extends, readily enough:

Should an investment manager double down on a losing strategy, which unless reversed will bankrupt his fund? Or should the size of his positions be controlled along the way, so that no single exposure could threaten his entire firm’s survival?

Should an entrepreneur put all his capital at risk to start a new venture? To a retiree in reasonable comfort, the upside is limited, but the hazard of a failed and penurious old age is real; while to a new graduate with a long view, fortune favors seizing the greatest number of jackpot opportunities.

The under-appreciated risk-assessment obligation, all of this should suggest, lies in deliberate attention, usually overlooked, to the alternative choice: the action foregone, the rejected Plan B, the road not taken, the decision not to charge ahead.

To a rookie Indy driver with his hair on fire and his foot to the floor, this would all seem abstract, bloodless and pedantic. But it should feel otherwise to a risk officer whose strategic control over a floor of stoked-up traders is his bank’s best hope for survival through the next bubble.

Because my students are more likely, post-graduation, to steer companies and to run portfolios, than to drive turbocharged racing cars, the sorry case of JR Hildebrand’s impetuous mis-chance will keep a place in my curriculum.

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The PCAOB Settlement in Satyam: PwC Agrees to Fall on its Pen-Knife

“Two aristocrats challenge each other to see which can come up with the larger number. The second agrees to the contest, concentrates for a few minutes, and proudly announces, “Three.” The proposer of the game is quiet for half an hour, then finally shrugs and concedes defeat.”

-- John Allen Paulos, “Innumeracy,” 1988

 

 The PCAOB’s April 5 settlement with the Indian firms of the PwC network, over the billion-dollar fraud at Satyam Computer Services Limited, adds a $1.5 million fine to the six million dollars the auditors also agreed to cough up to the SEC.

(Statements from the agencies are here and here; see Going Concern for the orders; and the NYT for statements from PwC.)

The amount compares to the aggregate salary of the five PCAOB members of $2,366,000. It would be a small fraction of either the annual compensation of PwC’s global chief Dennis Nally, or the firm’s legal fees on Satyam to date. And even measured by the $ 550 million ponied up by Goldman Sachs under its August 2010 SEC settlement of its one-issue dispute over the “Abacus” derivative peddled by its fabulous Fabrice Tourre (here), the amount is derisory. 

The Big Four giant is still facing on-going investor claims, to be sure. But the exposure is well-fenced; the Supreme Court’s June 2010 decision in Morrison closed the doors of the American courts to foreign securities claimants who bought their shares abroad, and the inexperienced Indian judicial system lacks the competence to be an attractive plaintiffs’ venue.

Consider the motives from the regulatory perspective. The settlement timing ahead of the April 6 hearing of the Senate Finance Committee on the role of the accounting profession in the financial crisis (here) gave senior officials a public forum. And the media coverage allowed the SEC’s enforcement head Bob Khuzami and FCPA unit chief Cheryl Scarboro, and the PCAOB’s chairman Jim Doty and his enforcement head Claudius Modesti, all to strut their achievement against foreign auditors – even while avoiding the obligation actually to try their case across international borders.

From the PwC perspective, meanwhile, the chance for a cheap exit from a major problem would have been a no-brainer. Consider:

First, an enforcement ding on the Satyam engagements had to be coming, sooner or later. From the PCAOB’s order – which PwC agreed not to contest – the Indian engagement teams on the audits from 2005 through 2008 basically did not:

• Adequately audit the company’s cash positions
• Control the confirmation process on bank balances or accounts receivable
• Pursue indications of inconsistent information or control weaknesses
• Follow PwC global directives on audit execution
• Inform or advise higher-level quality oversight personnel
• Document the work actually done (or not) in the work-papers, until subsequent back-dating while already under regulatory scrutiny

So a strategic decision not to defend the indefensible indicates early recognition of a step toward sustainable credibility. 

As for the sanctions – PwC’s undertakings on future practice quality, staffing, training and internal oversight are no more than necessary for an enterprise with aspirations to professionalism; the two-year presence of an outside monitor only adds one more stranger to the list of foreign intruders imposed on its Indian practice; and the six-month restraint on new SEC clients runs only to the settling Indian firms, so does not inhibit either the global network or its other Indian affiliates.

And, lastly, the financial impact of the fines on the massive PwC network is no more than a dime added to a roll of nickels.

For good measure, with the week’s news cycle dominated by military activities in Libya and a threatened government shut-down in Washington, and subsidiary attention to post-earthquake Japan’s nuclear hazards and Silvio Berlusconi’s “bunga bunga” trial, the entire story will drop off the media screen in less than no time.

Predictably, critics of the accounting profession who are unwilling to settle for less than the scalps of the Big Four leaders nailed to an enforcer’s door will make their outrage known.

But they will fail to acknowledge that both the regulators and PwC itself are only acting in full accordance with their respective DNA.

So once again, this settlement points up the challenge to the long-term achievability of a valuable, sustainable assurance function, to serve the issuers and users of the financial information of global-scale companies: the terms of the discourse are revealed as hopelessly inadequate.

 

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Recidivism and Risk Management: Barry Minkow Goes Back to the Slammer

Son, always remember: some day, somewhere, a guy is going to come to you and show you a nice brand-new deck of cards, and this guy is going to offer to bet you that the jack of spades will jump out of this deck and squirt cider in your ears. But son, do not bet him, for as sure as you do, you are going to get an ear full of cider.

-- Damon Runyon, “The Idyll of Miss Sarah Brown” (1933)

 A question for those charged with risk management and fraud prevention:

 What’s your company policy on employing or doing business with ostensibly reformed white-collar criminals?

 And is a re-think indicated by the news that Barry Minkow, wunderkind among securities swindlers for the scam at ZZZZ Best in the 1980’s, for which he served seven years of a double-digit sentence on 57 counts, is negotiating a securities-fraud plea bargain under which he now faces fives fresh years of jail time (here).

My concern is a prosaic one – not Hollywood’s question whether his return to federal housing means that the pending Minkow bio-pic requires re-shooting of a new ending (here), or whether the February burglary of $50,000 at the Community Bible Church where he recently resigned as pastor (here) bears any of his felonious fingerprints (here).

It’s only this: Given the rate of relapse among those described by English essayist Charles Lamb as “so crooked that if they’d swallow a spike, they’d void out a corkscrew,” should a company concerned for its reputation and fiscal soundness ever yield to sentiment and invite such a fox back into its henhouse?

Experience over the years counsels against it. Examples in my own catalog include the large-company CEO convict, who finagled a reduced sentence via a convenient medical excuse, and was no sooner paroled to a halfway house than he took over its single pay-phone to peddle the rosy promises of new oil deals. Or the youthful CFO applicant who persuaded an employer of his time-served maturation, following bucket-shop charges; the naïve advice of the audit firm partner was to “keep the kid away from the cash” – unavailing to prevent a scandalous and catastrophic collapse and a portfolio of lengthy prison sentences for the entire executive team.

And it was surely foreseeable, following O.J.Simpson’s circus-trial acquittal, that his temporarily dampened symptoms of renewed personal violence would re-erupt – the only question being the period of his volcanic latency.

For a risk manager the decision-making process is a two-by-two matrix – evaluating the rewards and benefits of a yes/no choice whether to chance re-attachment to someone’s checkered past.

A successful result could yield good and honest performance – non-trivial, but likely not different from that available with many other candidates – whereas the negative – a relapse into criminality – would at minimum be seriously costly and disruptive.

On the other hand the cautious choice to forego the relationship would mean sacrificing the potential contribution of an ex-felon – again, a modest upside – although avoiding the destruction that a recidivist’s presence might cause.

The analytic process has its formulation in the 17^th-century French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal’s wager on the existence of God:

Betting against the proposition, with no particular reward for being right, could – if proved wrong -- suffer the punishment of an eternally vengeful deity. Rather, the wager in favor of His existence carries no hazard if incorrect, but offers the upside of an eternity of bliss.

Minkow’s own now-former church is no doubt a repository of repentance, atonement, forgiveness and charity. Admirable qualities, all. But they should not overwhelm what is learnable from logic and experience.

Namely: the percentage of white-collar wrongdoers in the executive suites is small to begin with. But once the “contingent possibility” is established – that is, an already existing proclivity to misbehave – the risk calculus is fundamentally changed.

There is a cottage industry of ex-cons and their acolytes, working the book-and-lecture circuit and flogging scripts of penitence and redemption pitched to the credulous.

It is one thing to read their stories and even to consider the quondam relevance of their experiences. But the case is not made that they should be entrusted with access to the balance sheets of any enterprise involving other people’s money.

 

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Accounting Standards: Rules or Principles? Lessons From the UBS Dress Code

Goldman Sachs has snatched from its US clients the windfall chance to front-run Facebook's IPO, by limiting access to the potential of its $1.5 billion special-purpose fund to foreigners -- while professing no influence from the fuss-budgets at the SEC (here). So it seems a good time to ask:

Should regulatory compliance and accounting standards be expressed as detailed codes of precisely-drawn rules? Or as broadly-articulated principles?

There are lessons to be taken from the 43-page dress code issued by Swiss bank UBS in December (here).

The debate needs help: endless, pointless and fruitless, it feeds the conclusion that much-touted but never progressed “convergence” between international accounting standards and country-level codes in Europe, the UK and the US is as distant, elusive and unlikely as ever.

Popular reaction is that only a Swiss mentality could perpetrate the obsession at UBS, with its meticulous prescriptions on suit fabrics, cosmetic colors, collar points and hair care both facial and cranial.

Although, a dress code did appear late in my own corporate life – no less ridiculous but also raising non-trivial dissonant issues about the boundaries and effectiveness of guidance.

I was the senior member and titular head of a team based in Paris – an expatriate American amongst colleagues from the major European countries. To a man and woman, all were immensely talented and hard-working. They were also urbane, stylish and beautifully attired.

Global headquarters in the US published its requirements for the new “business casual.” It was only six single-spaced pages, compared to the fulsome 43 pages of UBS – but who’d have expected better from the sartorially challenged Americans?

It went into gruesome detail on necklines and sleeve styles and degrees of elasticity; it proscribed denim and gym gear and athletic branding; and it forbade flip-flops and open toes and footwear of any aerobic provenance.

On a given day, probably one-third of our Paris team would have been out of compliance. But, making their own individual decisions about skirt lengths, or pantyhose in July, or whether to match an Armani T-shirt with a differently-branded suit, my young charges were always impeccably turned out and appropriate for client premises and boardrooms anywhere.

For the purpose, they were capable of proper judgments under the lightest of guidance. At our annual group party our solicitor from Edinburgh was elegant in his formal tartan kilt, dirk and sporn – but for court he was always in proper dark grey suit. On warm spring days the length of limb on display among our lanky cadre of legal assistants was a substantial percentage of their average 1.8 meters – but they all donned decorous trouser suits when the visiting firemen arrived from America.

Which has what to do with the challenge of setting international accounting standards? The answer starts with the extent of mutual trust and confidence shared by a community seeking for mutually-acceptable guidance and limits.

Our Europeans rightly expressed derision and ridicule for the US code, just as most of the world feels for the pathetic efforts of UBS, because of our expectations for what was important: discipline, dedication and execution of first-quality work. Under broad principles of professionalism and good taste, their public face was virtually one of self-regulation.

Whereas if constrained by punctilious trivialities, they would have wasted both their morale and my goodwill, along with countless hours of productive time, on manipulation of the rules in rebellious search for boundaries and exceptions.

It’s no different with financial reporting standards and regulations. History teaches that bright-line limits are pushed to excess by the creative and the aggressive: the depreciation lives of mainframe computers in the 1970’s, the elastic retained ownership requirements for special-purpose entities exploited by Enron in the 1990’s, the investor limits skirted by Facebook under the counsel of Goldman Sachs.

It is the human condition that some deviance from codes of behavior is inevitable – society decides the amount, by voting its willingness to allocate resources to law enforcement and sanctions.

The range across cultures can be vast – from the de facto legalization of recreational drugs in urban America at one end, to the use of flogging in Singapore to punish the consumption of fast food on the public streets.

At the extreme, drunken driving among teen-agers could be eliminated: raise the driving age to 25 and impose capital punishment on first offenders. No less, accounting manipulations could be wiped out – by outlawing commercial transactions in more than one currency or that fail to settle for cash within 48 hours.

But the compromises required of society would never go so far. Instead, the certainty of occasional lapses and excesses is accepted. Limits are broadly defined, and enforcement mechanisms are calibrated -- for both better andworse -- in both the capital market’s use of financial information and the fashion decisions of a business office.

Judged by my experience in the latter, a global environment is far more seemly and operates with more success without the heavy hand of excess regulation.

That will soon be learned, I wager, in the halls of UBS. Whether the new leaders of the Financial Accounting Standards Board and the International Accounting Standards Board will agree is a matter of greater doubt.

 

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Holiday Gifts in Bernie Madoff's Bankruptcy: A Widow Does Her Bit -- and the Banks Will Too

 Holiday gifts arrived early in December for the circle of players around the wreckage that was Bernie Madoff. There are several lessons.

First, the widow of Madoff’s ur-client Jeffrey Picower redefined the landscape of civil forfeitures by agreeing with Madoff trustee Irving Picard to turn over an astonishing $7.2 billion – said to be her late husband’s entire take from a 35-year relationship (here).

Second, Picard himself dumped sacks of coal and lawsuits into the stockings of the Madoff enablers – notably including Unicredit, JPMorgan Chase, UBS and HSBC – charging them with notice of Madoff’s irregularities even while profiting from their proximity as custodians, administrators and managers of the monies fed to him by investors (the FT’s December series is well summarized here).

The former is of interest at least as a matter of social behavior and norm-setting. The latter will have reverberations with effect on the relationships between banks and other intermediaries and their own gate-keepers, including their auditors.

Barbara Picower faced this dilemma: She could have spent the rest of her own life defending against Picard’s suit, fighting uphill to protest the conduct and virtue of her spouse – who, charitably accepting her own claim of innocent ignorance of Madoff’s scheming, confronted the plainly demonstrable character evidence of his propensity to cheat at golf (a favorite post with readers from March 2009 is here).

Or – presumably able to live in adequate comfort on her bequest from Jeffrey of $ 200 million, and thus dramatically re-calculating the magnitude of a “widow’s mite” – she could launder her own status with a dramatic gesture of civility and largesse.

Secular sainthood is seldom so available – and with nary a hungry day either.

The noblesse of the widow Picower has made life less pleasant for Madoff’s other A-list clients. Those like Picower, close enough to finger the tattered edges of his moral fabric, are now forced to choose. They can oppose Picard’s claims to claw back their ill-gotten returns, under the shadow of the widow’s precedential capitulation. Or they can join the settlement queue – although not cushioned by the generous inheritance she enjoys, and to be seen only as belated converts, never to enjoy the halo effect she obtained as first-mover.

Depending on his trawl through Madoff’s client list, Picard is now working on a shortfall of some $10 billion. Of that, it says here that he will extract on the order of $ 1 billion from HSBC alone – precisely on account of the roadmap to its liability provided by the due-diligence engagements performed for the bank by KPMG in 2005 and 2007 and roundly ignored. It’s a plaintiff’s dream and an evidentiary nightmare for the bank that, prediction suggests, HSBC will pay handsomely to keep far away from a trial.

There’s more here, though: The KPMG engagements are a roadmap not only to what was done for its client, but to what could have been done for the other enablers targeted by Picard. Therein will lie a tale for the courts – and another set of eight or nine-figure contributions eventually to reach Picard’s collection basket.

But now for the broader questions: What if HSBC had taken KPMG’s work to heart. Or the other banks and feeder funds had engaged credible due diligence by their advisers on accounting, auditing and controls? Madoff’s pyramid would have been toppled before it reached pedestrian levels.

Suppose by extension, while we are at it, that Lehman Brothers had asked E&Y for a critical study of the exposures lurking in its use of repo derivatives to window-dress its balance sheet? And actually acted on it?

Or that Daniel Bouton at Société Générale had re-deployed a portion of his bank’s costs of external audit to give actionable scrutiny to the corrupted back-office operation that was so expensively exploited by rogue trader Jérôme Kerviel?

Or that AIG had given credence to a state-of-thinking study of the non-correlated nature of the inter-connected structure of the global CDO market?

Instead of the risk management possibilities of available but unavailed sources of wisdom, these institutions continued to subscribe to the one-page, bog-standard commoditized reports that regulators require from auditors – to be ignored in good times, because they convey no value regarding non-problematic operations, and useless for the detection and prevention of catastrophic events in bad. 

It’s a closed and obsolete system as bankrupt as Bernie Madoff himself. In the entire cast of characters, Barbara Picower emerges so far as the best of the whole sorry lot.

 

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Dodd-Frank Lets Small-Company Auditors Off the Internal Controls Hook: Putting a Partial Lid on the Sarbox

At least one piece of the Dodd-Frank legislation now has a ribbon neatly tied around it: the Securities and Exchange Commission has issued its rules to exempt small companies – generally those with less than $75 million of common equity – from having a separate independent auditor’s report on their internal control assurance under Section 404 of the Sarbanes-Oxley law.

(For her customarily concise and lucid summary, see Edith Orenstein’s FEI Blog.)

I’ve been quiet on Dodd-Frank. Why not? Unmanageable in its creation, incomprehensible in its enactment, unpredictable in its consequences, as it was. Who could work up an appetite to ingest such a pigs’-breakfast of law-making?

Small companies may say, with the night watch in Hamlet’s Elsinore, “For this relief much thanks.” But marginal tinkering with the mis-begotten obligations of Sarbox 404 will matter less, and for different reasons, than are usually put on view.

To start, the toxic post-Enron environment in which Sarbanes-Oxley was enacted in 2002 has effectively immunized its impositions from critical cost-benefit evaluation. Persistently asking the wrong question – “Has the quality of corporate reporting actually improved since the days of WorldCom and HealthSouth?” – not only ignores the built-in cyclicality by which outbursts of scandal are purged by self-cleansing returns to virtue. It also leaves unasked the proper question: “Is that reporting better than if Washington had done something else – including doing nothing at all?”

More importantly, can any scarred survivor of the last three years of Bear-Lehman-Fannie-Freddie-AIG-Merrill – the most disruptive economic period since the Great Depression – argue seriously that auditors’ reports on the “out-of-controls” of those fallen industry giants actually made any positive contribution to systemic safety, stability or credibility?

In that dreary context, of course, it makes perfect rational sense to give small companies a “Get Out Free” card.

That’s because, as I was advised about parenting strategy when our daughter was born: “Little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems.” A new father’s worries escalate, from the essentially trivial inconvenience of an infant’s colic or spilled oatmeal, on to little league injuries and a teenager’s driving safety, up to college admission and the launch to the challenges of adulthood.

In the same way, the fewer zeroes on a balance sheet, the lessened likelihood of systemic impact of mis-behavior that makes a difference. “Out-of-control” at a Koss or an American Apparel may be inconvenient for a limited constituency, and provide grist for the mill of the plaintiffs’ securities class action lawyers – but otherwise doesn’t matter in the great scheme of things. It’s altogether different when the entire global financial system can seize up under the effects of a threatened, undetected and undeterred collapse at an AIG or a Lehman.

History and experience teach that regulatory systems designed and applied under motives of political correctness over the fat part of the compliance curve are wasteful and ineffective – whether aimed at school truancy, auto emissions or corporate disclosures. Instead they will fail to identify and address the “outliers” that actually prove disruptive – the SEC’s sorry performance in regard to Bernie Madoff and Allen Stanford make the case. 

Section 404 reports on small companies were never any more likely to be effective by way of detection or deterrence for small companies than they have proved for the large. So it was an inevitability that inflicting Sarbox 404 auditor reports on small companies would have been largely an exercise in even further futility. If regulation has not worked for the big and dangerous, in other words, how can it be good or useful for the small and irrelevant?

Drab as it may seem, finding negative comfort that at least our legislators have stumbled into a way to avoid making a weak situation even worse, there is both logic and benefit in leaving bad enough alone.

 

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Drilling Down Into BP's Risk Management: A Process As Blown As The Well

“I never went to bed with an ugly woman. But I’ve sure woke up with a few.”

-- Country songwriter Bobby Bare

The failure of BP to “top kill” the Deepwater Horizon well brings to mind Blaise Pascal’s difficult question, how to strategize the unanswerable question whether God exists.

As he came out, to assume the positive and be right is marvelous, and to be wrong is of little effect; to assume the negative and be right is no worse than neutral – but to be wrong is damning.

Looked on as a matter of risk management – rather than as a much-debated philosophical or spiritual conundrum – Pascal’s challenge sits on top of the list of lessons from the events just ahead of the catastrophic blow-out in the Gulf of Mexico.

That is, if it were a final examination question in my MBA class – where we search for the lessons from failures in decision-making across a broad range of business and personal activity -- it would be hard to improve on the Deepwater Horizon disaster. The catalog of avoidable errors in analysis and performance is long and troubling – for example:

• Increased safety measures can mask heightened risk, especially where early signs of trouble are ignored as “close calls.”
• Increased complexity of technology alters the risk profile at the frontier of safety margins. 
• Management over-ride of on-the-spot warnings discourages honest communication and conceals bad news under the pressure to deliver success.
• Group-think and herd behavior are exacerbated by the over-confidence that mistakes past achievement for future safety.
  

Briefly put, the central theme in BP’s failed process was the consistent mis-measure, in its concededly risky choices, of Pascal’s potential up and downside gains and losses – related to what the statisticians confuse us all by referring to as Type 1 and Type 2 errors.

Examples abound, from the modestly consequential to the highly destructive. Consider:

A driver is low on gas. If he chooses to stop immediately, he gains the certain security of a full tank, foregoing the possibility of a modest savings. Whereas, if he carries on in search of a station with a lower price, his maximum upside is a few dollars gained, but his downside is to be marooned awaiting rescue by the roadside, or worse.

Or this: The space agency NASA must decide whether a shuttle launch can safely proceed in cold weather. Postponement to a warmer day means a modest loss of time, for the sake of mission safety – whereas pushing for a “go” decision can at best achieve budget and reputational success, but only with the risk that the frigid conditions will cause an explosive failure of the rocket’s booster (q.v., the 1986 loss of the shuttle Challenger and the lives of its seven astronauts).   

How extensible are the lessons of BP’s questionable decisions – the use of a riskier well casing, under pressures of time and budget, or the premature substitution of lightweight seawater for heavier drilling fluid, under delays costing $500,000 per day (here)?

At the level of individual risk tolerance, consider two insurance scenarios: Taking a pass on auto collision insurance saves the premiums, and puts at risk only the replacement cost of a total wreck. But choosing not to buy long-term health care insurance runs the uninsured risk of a debilitating and devastatingly expensive illness.

Or for investors: excess portfolio concentration in pursuit of incremental performance ignores the question, “How bad could this possibly get?” – as learned to their sorrow by Bernie Madoff’s clients and employees with their savings in Enron’s retirement program.

Consequences vary. Pick a bad restaurant, and the only loss is an evening’s sub-standard dining. But fail to hedge a naked short, and the losses could be ruinous. 

Corporate risk management depends for success on similar decision-making dynamics: Is a bet-the-company strategy acceptable? Is it even recognized?

Whatever the assessments made by Bear’s Jimmy Cayne or Lehman’s Dick Fuld or Countrywide’s Angelo Mozilo, they mis-evaluated their exposures to disastrous downsides – no less than the bureaucrats of NASA or the over-seers at BP.

On the other hand, betting Pascal’s wager the wrong way risks the wrath of an angry deity – which in the long run may be worse.

 

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The Valukas Report on Lehman Brothers: Sarbanes/Oxley's Credibility Takes a Dive

A host of hard questions lurk within all nine volumes and 2200 pages of the report by Lehman Brothers examiner Anton Valukas, released on March 11 (here) – which finds in its executive summary (here) that the company “painted a misleading picture of its financial condition.”

One of them, directed at anyone still harboring the belief that the Sarbanes/Oxley law of 2002 has had a beneficial effect on corporate governance and financial reporting: “Ready to change your mind?”

A lengthy list of potential defendants are teed up as targets for “colorable claims,” for actionable balance sheet manipulations using accounting techniques described in internal e-mails as having no substance, but serving only the purpose of reductions in Lehman’s balance sheet. 

Along with the apologists among the advocates of Sarbox’s efficacy, they will be heard to argue that its aspirations did not extend to the likes of Lehman’s financial machinations – a perspective begging this further question:

How can a regulatory program of the scope of Sarbox be justified, for the cost and complexity it inflicted on public companies and their gatekeepers -- most of whom would have been legitimately law-abiding even if left entirely alone -- while failing to identify, deter and capture the truly outstanding global-scale malefactors?

More simply put, if Sarbox didn’t have an impact on Dick Fuld and Lehman, what possible good has it wrought?

I’ve been in retreat this last week, reading the final papers of my MBA students in Risk Management – a bright and engaged group writing on recent case studies in the failures of risk modeling, assessment, comprehension and regulation.

Their examples cover the three years from the collapse of the Bear Stearns real estate funds, down to Toyota’s recent spiraling loss of both quality control and reputational stature. Even ahead of the Valukas report, it’s a target-rich environment, constantly replenished by the steady supply of newly-displayed examples of human venality, folly and frailty.

Among our course goals is the search for effective regulatory tools by which to shape improved policy-making and enforcement – a particularly challenging proposition, given the manifest inability of bureaucrats and elected officials to escape their inbred limitations of vision and effectiveness.

Depending on the importance of the issues at hand, how much enforcement should be imposed, and at what cost? 

Choices can be as coercive and heavy-handed as a polity will support and enforce. Taken to extremes, for example, teenage drunken driving could be eliminated: all that would be required is to raise the age of licensing to 25, and to impose automatic, non-negotiable twenty-year prison sentences on first-time violators.

Unthinkable, of course. Society is no more prepared for such draconian steps than it is to impose capital punishment on balance sheet manipulators or insider traders or even Ponzi schemers.

At the looser end of the enforcement spectrum, behavioral norms can be largely left to society’s level of tolerance for its own inconvenience. New Yorkers collectively agreed years ago, for example, that recreational marijuana was deemed to be de facto legitimate, thereby literally changing the atmosphere of Central Park. Likewise, no amount of patrolling will affect the dog-minding habits of Parisians, until they decide to alter the customs of a lifetime.

In the same way, the hindsight revelation of the Valukas report is that the inability of Sarbox to reach global-scale problems shows the futility of legislation so politically anodyne that it passed the US Senate by a vote of 96-0. 

The problem is one of closing the gap, between the level of deviance that society will stand and the amount of burden that it will pay for.

That is, a program of airport security will lack credibility, if so broadly applied as to deprive ordinary citizens of their ability to carry a bottle of wine or a tube of toothpaste, but that fails to identify terrorists whose deadly threat is limited only by their inept inability to detonate their shoes or their underwear.

Sarbanes/Oxley suffers the same defect: if it could not detect and deter an “outlier” on the scale of Lehman, then what beneficial effect can its proponents claim it has accomplished, by imposing an intrusive system of box-ticking on the vast bulk of corporate registrants?

As laid out in Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein’s 2008 book, “Nudge,” which outlines such minimally-intrusive approaches as automatic enrolment options in voter registration, organ donation and retirement savings plans, the challenge to long-term incentives – whether in personal diets or corporate financial disclosure – is the compelling immediacy of short-term rewards. 

Which means it should be no surprise either that the rewards for the purveyors of subprime mortgages and exotic securities were dissociated from the risks of later implosion, or that compensation for executive leadership should be tied to measures based on the latest quarterly results.

Or, depressingly, that the time frame for political reaction to pressing public issues is no longer than the calendar for the next election.    

 

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The Risk of Crashing on a Slippery Slope: Bankers and Lugers on Parallel Tracks

A Risk Management class of bright, perceptive MBA students devoted their meeting this weekend to Olympic sports – scrutinizing the death on February 12 of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili, who lost control on the last curve of the world’s fastest track at the Whistler Sliding Centre and crashed into a steel pillar.

The students’ usual focus is on the manifold failures in risk identification, appreciation and evaluation over the last three years. They look to specify and learn from such displays of bias, error and miscomprehension as Jimmy Cayne’s loss of control of the real estate funds of Bear Stearns, the confession by Ramalinga Raju of a multi-billion dollar fiction in the accounts of Satyam Computer Services, and Akio Toyoda’s tone-deaf bungling of the world’s largest vehicle recalls.

What they found was a set of questions with compelling resonance for the financial crisis:

• ·      Was a fatal crash the result of an overly aggressive and under-trained youngster, turned loose in a competitive environment beyond his skills and capabilities?
•  ·      Was there a simple but overlooked design flaw in the structure – in Vancouver, an unpadded steel pillar squarely in the path where a loss of control would eject the 90 mph victim of a small but highly consequential mistake?
• ·      Or did the designers who pushed the limits of knowledge and technology compromise the need for safety to the desire for high-speed achievement, failing to recognize that traditional measures of safety were outmoded and insufficient?

Just like the world’s tightly-linked capital markets, the Whistler track is wonderfully designed for success. Its users describe it as challenging but thrilling – the demands are huge, as are the rewards.

But like any other advanced and sophisticated device designed and operated by humans – whether a space shuttle or a nuclear reactor or this decade’s leading-edge array of exotic financial instruments -- a luge track is subject to the non-zero possibility of catastrophic error.

Even the engineers of the most prosaic highways, who strive to improve both safety and overall speed, are mindful of speeders who will test their design limits. Where pressing the outside limits of speed and safety is the very goal of the participants – recall the Olympic motto: “Citius, Altius, Fortius” – it is hollow and unresponsive to the point of irresponsibility to claim that the track is "relatively safe" (here).

As elsewhere, average performers disappear into the obscurity of the crowd. Outliers achieve prominence in two ways, both beyond the boundaries of ordinary expectations:

At the Games, one athlete wears a gold medal and salutes his national anthem from the victor’s podium. But at the opposite tail of the performance curve, the one who crashes earns only a memorial wreath and a home-town funeral.

In the marketplace, where the gold-medal outlier may be Warren Buffett, the opposite tail is populated by the likes of Dick Fuld of Lehman, Fannie Mae’s Franklin Raines and Countrywide’s Angelo Mozillo.

There is one huge difference between the “failure study” of the Whistler designers – who promptly lowered the luge start, re-shaped the fatal curve and padded the unfortunately-located steel pole – and the finger-pointing scapegoaters of Washington and London and Brussels.

Namely, every failure in the engineering field is an opportunity for learning – even if belated. Thanks to the iceberg, the Titanic’s design was no long the model for generations of at-risk ocean liners. Nor, after 9/11, would high-rise towers ever copy the World Trade Center.

But in the politically-motivated bickering over the allocation of blame for the financial markets’ debacle, by contrast, there is not even a civil forum in which to ask the pertinent questions – much less make progress on a search for answers. 

Which, as I remind my Risk Management students, invokes the observation on learning of the 5^th century BC playwright Aristophanes:

Youth matures

Immaturity is outgrown

Ignorance is curable by education

Only stupidity is forever

 

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The SEC Whacks Ernst & Young Over Bally Total Fitness -- Now for the Spoils of Victory

The SEC’s proceedings last month against Ernst & Young and six of its partners, relating to the financial statements of Bally Total Fitness, for the long-ago years 2001 – 2003 (here), threaten a double hazard under the axiom attributed to Winston Churchill, that “history is written by the victors.”

It’s not just tough enough for the accounting profession’s risk and quality managers, seeking to understand what really happened in Bally -- not only because the entire narrative is drafted by the enforcers, but also because without recourse to a public forum, the “consent decree” process acts as a muzzle on the targets. 

Worse – conceding that the only script available is written by the SEC itself – the array of sanctions and undertakings inflicted on E&Y signals that the environment for application of quality-oriented judgments has just become a lot more volatile, unpredictable and challenging.

This cannot be the place to debate either the facts or the justice of Bally; offered an exit from the SEC’s eternal grip, a target’s only strategy is to grit the teeth and roll over in silence.

Questions for the profession worth attention post-Bally, rather, are what to expect in the future, and how will behaviors be changed.

To start, with all other government agencies coming off the back foot in the financial crisis aftermath, the SEC carries three extra pieces of baggage: defensive reaction to its blinkered short-comings in failing to unmask Bernie Madoff, the passage of a half-decade in bringing the ancient Bally proceedings, and the lurking reality that pursuing a death-threat outcome against a Big Four firm itself would risk disintegration of the entire large-company assurance franchise.  

From these, it can be predicted – and the accounting profession should expect – that going forward, the SEC will aggressively aim its macho enforcement testosterone at the big firms’ individual personnel. Nuances and subtleties of professional judgment be damned, the agency will seek to show that its gun-slingers clank when they walk.

Which means, as Bally itself shows, that professional decisions will be second-guessed to the last degree. Where credit might be earned for careful risk considerations, E&Y had identified Bally as one of its highest risk clients – a sorting-out effort reflective of a profession-wide aspiration to differentiate levels of client complexity and reduce the commodity nature of the audit itself.

And E&Y also brought into consultations an entire circle of senior help, beyond the engagement and review partners – the geographic area manager, national practice quality assistance and even the firmwide head of practice and risk.

These actions should be encouraged. Picture the counter-factual: if Bally’s problems had gone as wrong as they did, and E&Y had not done so. The enforcement hounds at the SEC would have bayed to the skies. Instead, now, the firm’s personnel suffer individual censures and bar orders of up to three years, for conduct worthy of respect – albeit for results now deemed unsatisfactory.

What messages are sent to the profession’s quality and risk functions? Ought they to reduce the exposure of their senior personnel, by hanging out the line operators to struggle on their own? And by the way, who would aspire to the headaches of a consultative role, if only to finish a long career by dangling from the SEC’s noose?

One of E&Y’s undertakings in Bally is to re-visit, under the scrutiny of an outside examiner, its documentation of higher-level issue consultations.

So, under a sanction that only a bureaucrat could love, Bally will impel the Big Four’s national office boffins to “re-audit” information they receive from the field, and to build a fortress of memoranda to defend against the assaults of later second-guessing.

With the secondary effect that the time and energy available for real problem assessment must now be side-tracked to the same kind of self-protective file stuffing that is strangling American enterprise ranging from product safety to medical treatment to airport security. 

The SEC’s goal in the Bally settlements may not have been deliberately to degrade the large firms’ risk management capabilities. But the direction and effect will all go that way.

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Hand Washing and Swine Flu -- A Hospital That Could Avoid Failing Risk Management

Risk management is, for better or worse, a constant business challenge. As examples, I’ve given recent attention to the timing mis-alignment between senior-level compensation and litigation exposure – here – and the perils of failing to assure a long-term plan for business sustainability – here.

How about a major unmanaged public health risk – the threat of wider-spreading swine flu – that exists right now at the heart of the health system. A large regional hospital is ignoring our mothers’ most basic admonition: “Hey, wash your hands!”

I spent last weekend visiting a loved one, who is recovering remarkably from complex, life-threatening and brilliantly executed surgery. That much, the hospital had right.

Outside his room, and all along the wards, there were dispensers of hand-sanitizing gel – which the staff all used in diligent compliance with the posted signs.

Frequent use of soap-and-water or alcohol-based sanitizers is a low-cost, front-line tool in the fight against contagion (see here and here). So what was missing?

It was the complete lack of attention to the hundreds of daily visitors – a steady stream of arrivals from who knows what cesspits of contamination, spreading out through the hospital to hug and pat the patients, fluff the pillows, handle all the medical playthings, and shake hands with the doctors and nurses.

There was not one word of direction or support to disinfect this parade of the unwashed, before they acted as a delivery service for infectious pathogens from the ugly and germ-ridden outside world.

In my business school course on Risk Analysis and Management, we spend time on the problems of incentives – how to recognize and adjust the influences that lead to good or bad choices.

Personal issues include the difficulty of balancing immediate consumer spending against saving for future retirement, and succeeding with the well-intended plans for diet and exercise that fall victim to daily distractions and temptations. On the business side, as recent history has shown, mortgage brokers paid for volume will push subprime loans on unqualified buyers, and banks that off-load dodgy financial products pay out huge bonuses despite the inevitability of catastrophic future reckonings.

My class looks at the kind of cost-effective and minimally intrusive techniques laid out in the book “Nudge,” by the University of Chicago’s Cass Sunstein and Richard Thaler – here -- who explore situations ranging in complexity from the location of sweet desserts in a cafeteria line to retirement plan investment options to carbon mitigation techniques affecting climate change.

Which has what to do with promoting germ-reduction in a hospital? My students would zero in on the hospital’s unanswered question:

Why was there not a hand sanitizer conspicuously located at the reception desk – a control point where visitors must pass? What would it take?

There would be no cost to the hospital, since the devices are already stocked for staff use. No visitors would resist, since no fee or other imposition is involved, and in any event their wish for admittance creates ample motivation to cooperate.

In terms of Thaler and Sunstein’s search for the gentlest possible nudges toward hand-hygiene compliance, a research opportunity could test and evaluate for the most effective among the various levels of encouragement:

•       No sign at all might be needed, besides the clear and present reminder of the dispenser itself.
  
•     There could be a simple sign: “Please help prevent the spread of flu.”
  
•     Or the more aggressive: “It’s state law – visitors must use sanitizers.” 
  
•     Or the truly coercive – ultimately effective if perhaps a bit harsh: “Failure to use hand sanitizers is liable to punishment, including amputation.”

Broader lessons may lurk in the “teaching moment” of this hospital’s readily achievable illness-reduction opportunity, for the identification of “clean hands” incentives to promote fiscal or economic or corporate health and safety. 

For now, I concede my ambiguous emotions about going into hospitals -- because they’re always full of sick people. I would feel better, though, only knowing at least that by nudging everyone on their premises to use proper hand-cleaning techniques, they would be lowering my risk of leaving with my own case of swine flu. 

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