The tempest: Difference between revisions

From The Jolly Contrarian
Jump to navigation Jump to search
No edit summary
No edit summary
Line 1: Line 1:
{{a|work|}}{{quote|“It wasn’t infinity in fact. Infinity itself looks flat and uninteresting. Looking up into the night sky is looking into infinity — distance is incomprehensible and therefore meaningless. The chamber into which the aircar emerged was anything but infinite, it was just very very very big, so big that it gave the impression of infinity far better than infinity itself.”
{{a|work|}}{{quote|“It wasn’t infinity in fact. Infinity itself looks flat and uninteresting. Looking up into the night sky is looking into infinity — distance is incomprehensible and therefore meaningless. The chamber into which the aircar emerged was anything but infinite, it was just very very very big, so big that it gave the impression of infinity far better than infinity itself.”
:— {{Author|Douglas Adams}}, {{hhgg}}}}
:— {{Author|Douglas Adams}}, {{hhgg}}}}
The financial markets are cyclical. There are times of fallow, times of harvest, times of maintenance, and times of storm. The activity of all those hardy souls that till the fields of finance: farm-boys, the ostlers, the stable-hands, shepherd-girls; those that sow and reap, those that thresh, those that maintain the machinery by which we harvrest the fruits of the field and forest — it varies by season, by climate and by weather. We [[Reduction in force|prune]] in the winter. We till the soil and plant our seed in the spring. Once the crops are underway and flourishing in the warm the summer breeze, we go away to Majorca. We are back in time for harvest: once the book is closed, for three months the senior farmers hunker down to agree how much grain each has earned and what pittance of it they should set aside for their sharecroppers.<ref>There is a reason why so many catastophes take place in the Autumn: no-one has their eye on the ball because everyone is arguing about their [[compensation]]. This is just a theory for which I have no evidence.</ref> The interlocking cycles annual, seasonal, circadian — carry on their ancient ways, interrupted by intermittent storms, when the agrarian community comes together, puts down their ploughshares and bends all their footsteps towards protecting crops, saving livestock and battening down hatches.
The financial markets are cyclical. There are times of fallow, times of harvest, times of maintenance, and times of storm. The activity of all those hardy souls that till the fields of finance: farm-boys, the ostlers, the stable-hands, shepherd-girls; those who sow and reap, those who thresh, those who maintain the machinery by which we harvest the [[Rice|fruits of field]], [[Frutti di bosco|forest]] and [[Fruits of the contract|contract]] — it varies by season, by climate and by weather.  


Most times the tempest passes quickly, with little lasting damage. The hardest storms do not. Unlike actual weather, we do not measure the severity of a financial storm against a [[bell curve]]. Storms are [[The long tail|long-tailed]]. They are ''human''. The largest are orders of magnitude more destructive than the smallest: they exist inside the collective conscious; they rage though the infinite tiny interpersonal observations: how millions of people, in a swarm, behave. And in the teeth of a gale, we behave erratically, irrationally and unexpectedly. We blindly run about, our hair on fire. The normal laws of commerce stop working.
We [[Reduction in force|prune]] in winter.  


Just like ''financial'' models of behaviour,<ref>The [[Black-Scholes option pricing model]], for example.</ref> ''legal '' models of behaviour, predicated on rational participants, observable values and crystal clarity as to the prevailing environmental circumstances, tend to break down exactly when you need them. These ''may'' prevail, in discrete default scenarios, but when an epochal tempest is raging, they will not. ''Normal assumptions do not apply''. We have seen this in all the [[ten-billion-year storm]]s of our era: the crash of 1929, Black Monday, the First Russian Crisis, the Dot-Com bust, the great financial crisis,
We till the soil and plant our seed in the spring.
 
Once the crops are underway, photosynthetically nourished by the warm summer sun, we go away to Majorca.
 
We are back in time for harvest: once the book is closed, for three months the senior landholders hunker down to agree how much grain each has earned and what pittance of it each should set aside for their sharecroppers.<ref>There is a reason why so many catastophes take place in the Autumn: no-one has their eye on the ball because everyone is arguing about their [[compensation]]. This is just a theory for which I have no evidence.</ref> The interlocking cycles — annual, seasonal, circadian — carry on their ancient ways, interrupted only by intermittent storms, when the agrarian community comes together, puts down their ploughshares and bends all their footsteps towards protecting crops, saving livestock and battening down hatches.
 
Most times, the storms pass quickly, they bring rain, root out dying lumber, and refresh the soil, with much renewal and little lasting damage.
 
But the hardest financial gales do not. They set in, howl, and rage, for weeks or months, and they cause us to doubt every precept of our arable philosophy. Unlike actual weather, we do not measure financial storms against a [[bell curve]]. They are [[The long tail|long-tailed]]. They are ''human''. The largest are orders of magnitude more destructive than the smallest: they exist inside the collective conscious; they rage though the infinite tiny interpersonal observations: how millions of people, in a swarm, behave. And in the teeth of a gale, the natural order of things; the normal laws of commerce stop working. People behave erratically, irrationally and unexpectedly. Some who have hitherto been upstanding show themselves to be rogues. Some once known to be thoughtful run blindly about, their hair on fire. ''We find out who has been swimming naked''.
 
Just like ''financial'' models,<ref>The [[Black-Scholes option pricing model]], for example.</ref> ''legal '' models, predicated as they are on a predictable range of behaviours — those evident in rational participants possessed of observable data and crystal clarity as to the prevailing environmental circumstances, tend to break down just when most you need them. These ''may'' prevail, in discrete default scenarios, but when an epochal tempest is raging, they will not. ''Normal assumptions do not apply''. We have seen this in all the [[ten-billion-year storm]]s of our era: the crash of 1929, Black Monday, the First Russian Crisis, the Dot-Com bust, the great financial crisis, and now with this latest Russian crisis.
 
Now.
 
The process of putting in place [[Relationship contract|relationship agreements]] is assuredly a fair-weather activity.


{{sa}}
{{sa}}
*The [[Apocalypse]]
*The [[Apocalypse]]
{{ref}}
{{ref}}

Revision as of 17:27, 18 March 2022

Office anthropology™
The JC puts on his pith-helmet, grabs his butterfly net and a rucksack full of marmalade sandwiches, and heads into the concrete jungleIndex: Click to expand:
Tell me more
Sign up for our newsletter — or just get in touch: for ½ a weekly 🍺 you get to consult JC. Ask about it here.

“It wasn’t infinity in fact. Infinity itself looks flat and uninteresting. Looking up into the night sky is looking into infinity — distance is incomprehensible and therefore meaningless. The chamber into which the aircar emerged was anything but infinite, it was just very very very big, so big that it gave the impression of infinity far better than infinity itself.”

Douglas Adams, The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

The financial markets are cyclical. There are times of fallow, times of harvest, times of maintenance, and times of storm. The activity of all those hardy souls that till the fields of finance: farm-boys, the ostlers, the stable-hands, shepherd-girls; those who sow and reap, those who thresh, those who maintain the machinery by which we harvest the fruits of field, forest and contract — it varies by season, by climate and by weather.

We prune in winter.

We till the soil and plant our seed in the spring.

Once the crops are underway, photosynthetically nourished by the warm summer sun, we go away to Majorca.

We are back in time for harvest: once the book is closed, for three months the senior landholders hunker down to agree how much grain each has earned and what pittance of it each should set aside for their sharecroppers.[1] The interlocking cycles — annual, seasonal, circadian — carry on their ancient ways, interrupted only by intermittent storms, when the agrarian community comes together, puts down their ploughshares and bends all their footsteps towards protecting crops, saving livestock and battening down hatches.

Most times, the storms pass quickly, they bring rain, root out dying lumber, and refresh the soil, with much renewal and little lasting damage.

But the hardest financial gales do not. They set in, howl, and rage, for weeks or months, and they cause us to doubt every precept of our arable philosophy. Unlike actual weather, we do not measure financial storms against a bell curve. They are long-tailed. They are human. The largest are orders of magnitude more destructive than the smallest: they exist inside the collective conscious; they rage though the infinite tiny interpersonal observations: how millions of people, in a swarm, behave. And in the teeth of a gale, the natural order of things; the normal laws of commerce stop working. People behave erratically, irrationally and unexpectedly. Some who have hitherto been upstanding show themselves to be rogues. Some once known to be thoughtful run blindly about, their hair on fire. We find out who has been swimming naked.

Just like financial models,[2] legal models, predicated as they are on a predictable range of behaviours — those evident in rational participants possessed of observable data and crystal clarity as to the prevailing environmental circumstances, tend to break down just when most you need them. These may prevail, in discrete default scenarios, but when an epochal tempest is raging, they will not. Normal assumptions do not apply. We have seen this in all the ten-billion-year storms of our era: the crash of 1929, Black Monday, the First Russian Crisis, the Dot-Com bust, the great financial crisis, and now with this latest Russian crisis.

Now.

The process of putting in place relationship agreements is assuredly a fair-weather activity.

See also

References

  1. There is a reason why so many catastophes take place in the Autumn: no-one has their eye on the ball because everyone is arguing about their compensation. This is just a theory for which I have no evidence.
  2. The Black-Scholes option pricing model, for example.