downside is unacceptably bad. You have a 50 percent chance of losing your
whole nest egg. Try explaining that to a spouse.
So let’s bring in some more coins. Suppose you spread the $100,000 in your
401(k) into ten different investments, each with the same payoff scheme: Heads,
the investment quadruples in value; tails, it becomes worthless. Your expected
return has not changed at all: On average, you will flip five heads and five tails.
Five of your investments would quadruple in value, and five would become
worthless. That works out to the same handsome 100 percent return. But look at
what has happened to your downside risk. The only way you can lose your entire
401(k) is by flipping ten tails, which is highly unlikely. (The probability is less
than one in a thousand.) Now imagine the same exercise if you buy several index
funds that include thousands of stocks from around the world.
†
That many coins
will never come up all tails.
Of course, you better make darn sure that all those investments have outcomes
that are truly independent of one another. It’s one thing to flip coins, where the
outcome of one flip is uncorrelated with the outcome of the next flip. It’s quite
another to buy shares of Microsoft and Intel and then assume that you’ve safely
split your portfolio into two baskets. Yes, they are different companies with
different products and different management, but if Microsoft has a really bad
year, there is a pretty good chance that Intel will suffer, too. One of the mistakes
that compounded the financial crisis was the belief that bundling lots of
mortgages together into a single mortgage-backed security created an investment
that was safer and more predictable than any single mortgage—like flipping one
hundred coins instead of just one. If you are a bank with one mortgage loan
outstanding, it could go into default, taking all of your capital with it. But if you
buy a financial product constructed from thousands of mortgages, most of them
will be fine, which offsets the risk of the occasional default.
During normal times, that’s probably true. A mortgage goes into default when
someone gets sick or loses a job. That’s not likely to be highly correlated across
households; if one house on the block goes into foreclosure, there is no reason to
believe that others will, too. When a real estate bubble pops, everything is
different. Housing prices were plummeting all over the country, and the
accompanying recession meant that lots and lots of people were losing jobs. The
seemingly clever securities backed by real estate loans morphed into the “toxic
assets” that we’ve been trying to clean up ever since.
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