The Words Left Unspoken in the Bailout Debate
In all that's been said in recent days about the latest proposals to rescue the financial system, two words have been conspicuously absent.
They are the words that Americans need to hear before they commit $2,300 for every man, woman and child to rescue the financial system.
They are the words we need to hear before taxpayers are put in the position of rescuing arrogant and overpaid financiers from the full consequences of their bad bets and misguided decisions.
Most of all, they are the words that elected senators and representatives need to hear before they entrust the secretary of the Treasury with extraordinary power and discretion to spend public money and actively manage the markets and the economy:
As in, "We're sorry that those of us who were supposed to be stewards of the world's deepest and most trusted capital markets have violated that trust by putting our own interests ahead of those of our customers and the country."
We've now entered the political phase of this financial crisis, in which the outcome will be determined not by the fear and greed of investors but by the hopes and anxieties of the voters. Their decision won't be based on some collective assessment of the efficacy of reverse auctions in the price discovery process, or whether it is better to prop up the market for mortgage-backed securities or inject fresh capital into the banks that are holding them.
Their decision -- our decision -- will come down to a much simpler question: We've got one last chance to fix this thing. Are we willing to put our fate once again in the hands of financiers who have already abused our trust?
And that's where the two magic words come in. In Japan, great ritual accompanies such apologies, which are viewed as the first step in fixing a problem and restoring frayed relations. Here, by contrast, corporate apologies are viewed as unnecessary concessions to business and political adversaries and dangerous ammunition in the hands of prosecutors and plaintiffs lawyers.
You'll have to take it from me that it's probably not a good idea to put in legislation a requirement that any financial institution that wants to participate in the rescue program has to cap executive compensation at $400,000 a year -- the same as the president -- and eliminate all severance pay from executive contracts.
On the other hand, it would certainly capture people's attention if the heads of Citigroup, Goldman Sachs, Bank of America and Morgan Stanley were to stand before the cameras in the Capitol rotunda, apologize for letting down their investors and their employees and voluntarily offer to suspend their extravagant compensation schemes until the crisis has passed and new regulations are in place.
Because all financial institutions will benefit from a federal program to jump-start the markets in asset-backed securities, whether they participate in the program or not, it is hard to figure out which companies should be required to give taxpayers some of the "up side" if and when the markets recover.