2015年10月22日 星期四

CHAPTER 10 THE MATERIAL SOCIOLOGY OF ARBITRAGE

CHAPTER 10 THE MATERIAL SOCIOLOGY OF ARBITRAGE 套利的物质社会学

IAIN HARDIE AND DONALD MACKENZIE

“ARBITRAGE” is a term with different meanings, but this chapter follows market practitioners in defining it as trading that aims to make low-risk profits by exploiting discrepancies in the price of the same asset or in the relative prices of similar assets.1 A classic example historically was gold arbitrage. If the price of gold in Saudi Arabia exceeds its price in New York by more than the cost of transportation, arbitrageurs can profit by buying gold in New York and selling it in Saudi Arabia (or vice versa if gold is cheaper in Saudi Arabia). By buying and selling as close to simultaneously as possible, arbitrageurs avoid the risks of “directional” trading: they profit irrespective of whether the price of gold goes on to rise or to fall.
   Arbitrage requires technological resources, sustained effort, and expertise beyond the capacity of nearly all lay investors. It is the preserve of market professionals, and is a crucial form of trading. Arbitrage constitutes markets, for example helping to determine their scope and the extent to which they are global; that international gold arbitrage is possible creates a world market in gold with a “world price,” rather than geographically separate markets with different prices.
   In constituting markets, arbitrage has wider consequences for economies and political systems. For example, in the late 1990s arbitrageurs in hedge funds and investment banks began to perceive growing similarity between the bonds issued by the government of Italy and those issued by other European countries, notably Germany. For a variety of reasons (including distrust of the fiscal efficiency of the Italian state and consequent fears of it defaulting on its bonds), the prices of Italian government bonds had traditionally been low relative to those of countries such as Germany, thus imposing high debt-service charges on Italy. As arbitrageurs began to buy Italian bonds, their relative prices rose and the proportion of Italy’s government expenditure devoted to debt service fell.

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The process—which was assisted by the liquidity created by the MTS electronic bond-trading system, set up by the Italian treasury in 1988—helped Italy meet the Maastricht criteria for the European Economic and Monetary Union (EMU). Arbitrageurs’ beliefs thus had a self-validating aspect—they prompted trading that made the event (Italy’s qualification for EMU) on which the beliefs were predicated more likely—and helped to create a European government bond market, rather than separate national markets, although the Greek crisis in 2010 caused those markets once again to diverge radically.
 The failures of arbitrage can be as consequential as its successes. Such failures were at the heart of three of the most serious crises of the postwar financial system: the 1987 stock market crash, the 1998 turmoil surrounding the hedge fund Long-Term Capital Management (LTCM), and the 2007-8 credit crisis. A crucial aspect of the 1987 crash was the breakdown of the link—normally imposed by arbitrage—between the stock market and a key derivatives market: stock-index futures. In the case of LTCM, the forced unwinding of arbitrage positions caused huge, sudden, highly correlated price movements across the globe in apparently unrelated assets, bringing some markets close to paralysis. Arbitrage was the crucial motivation for the creation of the structured financial instruments at the heart of the credit crisis.
 There is an enormous disciplinary imbalance in regard to arbitrage. It has received almost no sustained attention in economic sociology, in economic anthropology, in economic geography, or in the strand of political science known as international political economy, even in the subsets of those specialties that deal with financial markets (the limited exceptions include Beunza and Stark 2004; Hardie 2004; MacKenzie 2003; Miyazaki 2003; Robotti n.d.; and Stark 2009). In contrast, the central theoretical mechanism invoked by modern financial economics is “arbitrage proof.” The field posits that the only patterns of prices that can be stable are those that permit no opportunities for arbitrage. Particular patterns of prices are then shown to be necessary by demonstrating that if prices deviate from that pattern arbitrage is possible. Arbitrageurs’ purchases of “underpriced” assets will raise their prices, and their sales of “overpriced” assets will lower the prices of the latter, so returning patterns of prices to that stable condition. The entire modern theory of asset pricing—especially the theory of the pricing of derivatives such as options—relies on “arbitrage proof” of this kind.
 The conceptualization of “arbitrage” in mainstream financial economics differs from the arbitrage as market practice that is the focus of this chapter. Orthodox economists define arbitrage as demanding no capital and involving no risk, while in market practice arbitrage seems always to require some capital and involve some risk, even if the risk is only that a counterparty to a transaction will not fulfill its obligations (Hardie 2004). Indeed, a purist would argue that the trading we consider in this chapter should not be considered “arbitrage” but simply “relative value” trading.
 Purism, however, has its costs—a purist definition of “arbitrage” excludes the real- world counterparts of the webUrl arbitrages of finance theory (see MacKenzie 2006)— and purism is not the only possible response. Financial economists—especially “behavioral” economists—have begun to investigate the consequences of making the definition of arbitrage more realistic (a crucial article in this respect was by Shleifer and Vishny 1997).

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These economists rightly see the topic as a crucial one. Since, in orthodox views, it is, above all, arbitrage that makes markets efficient, the existence of limits to arbitrage casts into doubt the full validity of the central tenet of modern financial economics: the efficient market hypothesis, according to which prices in mature capital markets fully reflect, effectively instantaneously, all available price-relevant information.
 We shall suggest below that there are potentially productive linkages between the emerging literature in economics on the limits of arbitrage and the “material sociology” of arbitrage that we advocate. Material sociology pays attention to, among other things, the role played in social relations by technological systems and other physical objects and entities, including human bodies viewed as material entities: see MacKenzie (2009a).
 Since that role is, of course, pervasive, all sociology should be material sociology, yet social theory frequently abstracts away from physical objects and empirical enquiry often does not focus on them. As we shall argue, a proper understanding of arbitrage requires us to take into account both its “physical” and “social” aspects, and the two are ultimately inseparable: arbitrage is simultaneously a “physical” and a “social” process.

BRAZIL 14s AND 40s

We begin with a concrete example of arbitrage. January 5, 2005: the authors are observing trading in a small London hedge fund, when one of its managers notices an oddity in the Brazilian government bond market. 2 The minutes of the US Federal Reserve’s Open Market Committee, released the previous evening in London time, have been taken by market participants as indicating that interest rate rises are on the way, and have led to general price falls in the Brazilian bond market. However, the “14s” (an issue of dollar-denominated bonds that mature in 2014) are “trading up”: their price is high relative to other bonds. “Hit the bid” (sell them), the manager suggests to his colleague, the fund’s trader.
 The trader does not respond immediately, but he goes on to ask his assistant to produce a chart of the prices over the last three months of the “14s” and the “40s” (Brazilian government dollar-denominated bonds that mature in November 2040). As the day proceeds, the trader takes a position in the 14s and the 40s, short selling the former and buying the latter. (To “short sell” an asset is to sell it without owning it, for example in the hope that it can be bought at a lower price when the time comes to deliver it.) He also sends a contact in an investment bank the Excel file containing the price chart produced by his assistant, encouraging his contact to circulate it to others. (Later in this chapter we discuss why he does this.)
 A bond maturing in 2040 seems very different from one maturing in 2014: much could happen in the quarter century between the two dates. But the bond maturing in 2040 is “callable”: the Brazilian government has the right to recall the bond by repaying the principal early, in 2015. If Brazilian bonds continue to trade at anything like their current prices, it will be in the government’s interest to do this, since it will be able to replace the borrowing more cheaply.

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  The “40s” thus in effect mature in 2015 and so, despite appearances, a “14” and a “40” are quite similar. None of this is said explicitly: it is part of what all sophisticated participants in the Brazilian bond market simply “know.” (Hardie was an investment banker before returning to academia, and was involved in the initial sale of the “40s” on behalf of the government of Brazil, so he knows it too, though he needs to whisper an explanation to MacKenzie.) Nevertheless, the chart produced by the trader’s assistant is a material representation that makes visible the reasoning underpinning the trade. Once he has configured the chart according to the trader’s wishes—initially, it shows the prices of the 14s and the prices of the 40s, when the trader wants it to display the difference in prices— the prices of the two bonds can be seen to follow each other closely, as would be expected, but with the 40s almost always slightly more expensive than the 14s. Again, the reason is common knowledge among aficionados. The 40s are the most liquid of Brazilian government bonds, the ones most readily bought and sold, and thus the most attractive to those who wish to create and to exit positions quickly.
 Someone viewing the chart can see what the trader has seen: in recent days the 14s have become more expensive than the 40s, with the difference increasing sharply the previous day (January 4). The trader knows his market well enough to infer a cause that is confirmed only later in the day in a telephone conversation with the above-mentioned investment bank contact. The sell-off triggered by US Federal Reserve’s minutes has concentrated in Brazil’s liquid 40s. Indeed, as the contact tells the trader, unusually “the real money guys [traders not in hedge funds but in bigger institutions] shorted 40s.”
 The trader thus confidently assumes—and makes explicit in a telephone conversation with his contact—that the fact that 14s are more expensive than 40s is a price discrepancy that will be temporary. By short selling 14s and buying 40s, he—and indeed others—can perform an arbitrage (in market practitioners’ sense of the term). The discrepancy would be expected to vanish in the normal course of events, but if others choose also to exploit it (perhaps because the investment bank contact circulates the assistant’s chart to them), the process will be hastened, maybe considerably. By early afternoon, the trader has accumulated some $13 million of short sales of 14s and another $13 million of purchases of 40s. By mid-afternoon, he is able to say “it’s moved in my favor”—the discrepancy has started to reduce—“but not enough to unwind”: he keeps the position on, expecting further reductions in the discrepancy. Only at the end of the week does he liquidate his position, earning a healthy profit.
 Note what the trader is not doing in this trade. Like the gold arbitrageur, he is not taking a “directional” view. He is not attempting to predict the policies of the Brazilian government, to estimate the probability of bond default by Brazil, or to anticipate the future courses of interest rates or inflation: because the 14s and the 40s are so similar, changes in factors such as these will affect the prices of each bond roughly equally, and with the trader’s matched “long” and “short” positions the effects will cancel out. As the trader puts it in a telephone call to his contact in the investment bank, “there is zero market risk” in the trade: its profitability (“there is at least half a point in that trade”) should not be affected by overall rises and falls in the prices of Brazilian government bonds.

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In fact, as he acknowledges to us, the trader’s position is not entirely free from risk—see below— but, in its insulation from the major risk factors in his market, it is low risk.
 Asked about the rationale of the trade, the trader says (just as a financial economist would) that the fact “that this trade has presented [itself] indicates [an] inefficiency.” Temporarily, prices are reflecting something other than information such as the relative liquidity of the two bonds. Although the trader’s motivation may simply be to earn money for his hedge fund, his actions are helping to eliminate a discrepancy and correct the effects of an “inefficiency.” In that respect, his trading, even if not free of risk, resembles arbitrage as conceived by financial economics.

THE MATERIALITY OF ARBITRAGE套利的物质性

    A price is a thing. Like all prices, those to which the trader was responding (and circulating in the form of the chart prepared by his assistant) were physical entities—patterns on computer screens and spoken numbers transmitted by telephone. The forms of embodiment of prices are various—the sound waves that constitute speech; pen or pencil marks on paper; the electrical impulses that represent binary digits in a computerized system or encode sound over a telephone line; hand signals in “open-outcry” trading pits that are too noisy for voices to be heard; and so on—but are always material. If a price is to be communicated from one human being to another, or from one computerized trading system to another, it must take a physical form.
 The materiality of prices matters to arbitrage because their physical embodiment affects the extent and speed of their transmission. Classical forms of arbitrage exploited the differences between prices in different places. The commodities and currency arbitrageur J. Aron & Company, for example, used to keep telephone lines to Saudi Arabia open constantly so it could, as quickly as possible, detect and exploit the emergence of discrepancies in gold or silver prices (Rubin and Weisberg 2003: 90-1).
 The development of electronic price dissemination systems (such as the “Monitor” system, introduced by Reuters in 1973: see Knorr Cetina and Bruegger 2002) largely undermined the time-space advantages that firms such as Aron had achieved by the use of social networks, the telegraph, and telephone. Electronic price dissemination does not, however, entirely eliminate differences in the speed of transmission of prices, and those differences remain consequential, even if they are now measured in milliseconds or even microseconds. An “arms race” has been underway for some time among arbitrageurs, and also those using automated order-placing systems to optimize their trading in other ways, in respect to transmission delays in computer networks. For example, firms are prepared to pay a premium to have their computer systems physically close to an exchange’s computer system. The end of face-to-face trading on exchange floors has meant that the human bodies participating in such trading need no longer be located in one place, but a recentralization of technological systems is running alongside the decentralization of bodies.

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 Arbitrage often involves bodily skills. Concluding a transaction over the telephone with one party to buy gold, a currency, or other asset, while at the same time telling a colleague to sell it to another party at a higher price is unlikely to succeed if one’s conversation with the colleague can be heard. It is thus important in this (and in many other uses of the telephone in financial markets) that one switches off the microphone when talking to colleagues. The telephones used in dealing rooms often have thumb-operated switches behind the earpiece that make it easy to do this, and many people always switch off the microphone when the party at the other end of the line is speaking, even if there is no parallel conversation for them to overhear. That way, it becomes a bodily habit that will not desert one in situations of excitement or stress.
 Even electronically conducted arbitrage can also involve material, embodied skill. Such trading involves placing “bids” (offers to buy) or “asks” (offers to sell) for the asset in question. This is generally done by using a computer mouse to click on a screen that, at least in the case of electronically traded futures, shows for each price level the numbers of bids (often in blue) and of asks (often in red). At busy times, these numbers and levels change from second to second, with blue and red bars seeming to dance up and down. If an arbitrage opportunity persists only for seconds (as is often the case), constant attention and rapid physical execution are needed. The anthropologist Caitlin Zaloom reports that as trainee futures traders she and her colleagues were made to practice repeatedly with a computerized gold-price arbitrage simulation, so that the disciplined attention and fast, accurate action they would need became bodily habits. As Zaloom says, they were encouraged “to play commercial video games on our own time to increase our reaction speeds and hand-eye coordination.” A particular danger they were trained to avoid was “fat fingering,” in which, for example, instead of left- clicking the mouse to “join the bid” (putting in an offer to buy at a set price) they accidentally right-clicked, inadvertently buying the asset in question at its current market price. The managers’ aim was to “train our bodies to operate as uninterrupted conduits between the dealing room and the on-line world, allowing our fingers to become seamless extensions of our economic intentions” (Zaloom, personal communication; see Zaloom 2006).
 The bodily aspects of arbitrage were most prominent when it was performed in open- outcry trading “pits”: stepped amphitheaters, which were traditionally octagonal. Dozens or hundreds of traders stood on the rungs of a pit, making deals by voice or by eye contact and an elaborate system of hand signals. In Chicago (the prime site of open- outcry trading), the hand-signal language that was used was called “arb” because its speed was essential to arbitrage. For example, when a trading firm spotted an arbitrage opportunity, webUrlly between the prices of gold futures traded in Chicago and in New York, it was quicker to “arb” (hand-signal) instructions from the firm’s booth to the trading pit than to send a clerk running to the pit with a written order (Lynn 2004: 57-9; see also Zaloom 2006).
 Where bodies are positioned with respect to each other could be of considerable significance to arbitrage in open-outcry trading. For example, the two main forms of option are calls (options to buy at a set “exercise price”) and puts (options to sell at a set price),

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and discrepancies between call and put prices can be exploited by arbitrages such as “conversion.” (In conversion, a trader sells a call option and simultaneously buys a put option with the same exercise price and expiration plus the stock or other underlying asset in question.) Options arbitrageurs on the American Stock Exchange found it advantageous to stand in between the “specialist” (designated main trader) responsible for calls and the specialist responsible for puts on the same stock. That was the optimum bodily position for detecting and exploiting opportunities for conversion and similar arbitrages.

THE SOCIALITY OF ARBITRAGE

    A price is a thing, but it is also social. All forms of arbitrage depend for their success on what others will do. Even in the classic forms of arbitrage that exploit differences in the prices of the “same” asset in different places, others must be depended upon to fulfill their obligations: for example, to deliver gold if the arbitrageur has struck a deal to buy it, or to deliver money if the arbitrageur has sold gold. Procedures carried out by others must also be relied upon to ensure that gold in Riyadh is “the same” as gold in Manhattan. Others yet again may be needed to transport gold from one place to another. (When securities were paper certificates, their transportation from place to place and the risk of loss of them during such transportation were issues that arbitrageurs had to consider.)
 The “sameness” of gold is established by assay procedures “external” to the market that can be treated by market practitioners as a “black box”—a reliable process whose details they do not need to consider—and nowadays “transportation” of securities is also usually treated by traders as a black-box matter. However, many—probably most—current forms of arbitrage exploit discrepancies in the prices not of the “same” asset but of “similar” assets: Brazil 14s and 40s; stocks and stock-index futures; stocks and options on those stocks; Italian and German government bonds; newly issued (“on-the-run”) government bonds and previously issued (“off-the-run”) bonds; government bonds and bonds carrying implicit government guarantees but backed by pools of mortgages; the shares of the two legally distinct but economically integrated corporations that until 2005 made up the Royal Dutch-Shell group; and so on. However, the similarity of assets such as the Brazil 14s and 40s, or of shares in Royal Dutch and in Shell, depends, at least over the short and medium term, on others within the market treating them as similar, and the arbitrageur can seldom afford to treat this as a black box.
 The “similarity” of financial assets is always in a sense theory-dependent. Sometimes, the theory in question is a sophisticated mathematical model. At other times, the theory is vernacular and down-to-earth: for example, that the 40s will remain Brazil’s most liquid government bonds, or that the intended Eurozone would converge, making Italian bonds similar to German bonds. To embark upon arbitrage, traders thus have to convince themselves that the theory on which the arbitrage rests is correct, or at least plausible enough to be the basis of practical action. They will often also want to or need to convince others.

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In our observations of the hedge fund (and the observations of an investment-bank arbitrage trading room by Beunza and Stark 2004) there was much discussion of possible trades and of the theories underlying them, both inside the organization and in the form of analyses coming in from outside (and occasionally flowing in the opposite direction). Critical roles in these discussions are often played by material representations of value, such as the chart showing the recent history of the difference in prices between the 40s and the 14s, or a “spread plot,” showing the relative prices of Hewlett Packard and Compaq, which Beunza observed being closely followed in 2001-2 by “risk arbitrageurs” hoping to exploit the probable—but not certain—merger between the two corporations (Beunza and Muniesa 2005). But material representations are often not on their own conclusive: information about what other traders are doing—for instance, about the behavior of “real money” in the Brazilian bond market—can also be important in allowing the plausibility of theories to be judged.
 The need to convince others does not necessarily cease once a trader takes on an arbitrage position. Often, the price discrepancy that is being exploited will increase further before it decreases, which means that the arbitrageur will incur apparent losses. Sometimes, apparent losses are actual outflows of money or securities (or, at least, the electronic traces thereof), for example as a result of the daily process in which exchange clearing houses adjust the “margin” deposits that participants must maintain in order to be allowed to continue to hold their positions. At other times, there are no actual outflows, but as banks and hedge funds “mark to market” (revalue their trading positions, which is now also normally done at least daily), a position shows a loss. In either case, the losses will be temporary (the outflow will be replaced by an inflow, a “paper” loss will turn into a realizable profit) if the theory underpinning the arbitrage is correct, but others may need to be convinced of this to allow the arbitrageur to continue holding the position.
 In a large institution such as a bank, the immediately important audience for arbitrage is an arbitrageur’s manager or managers, who will normally be closely attentive to the “P&L” (profit and loss) figures of those they supervise. “There’s a saying in trading circles,” one trader and manager told us: “the white sheet [P&L sheet] doesn’t lie”—losses are real, and should be acted upon as if they are real. The arbitrageur’s problem, however, is that from his or her viewpoint the white sheet does often lie, at least temporarily. A common complaint among arbitrageurs is of being instructed by managers to liquidate loss-bearing positions that they were certain would become profitable. Even “textbook” arbitrages can be subject to this risk: the traders in the Japanese securities firm studied by Miyazaki (2003) reported being forced to abandon arbitrages between stocks and stock-index futures because of the apparent losses incurred when they had to deposit additional futures margin. Such management behavior may seem incomprehensible until one realizes that the boundary between arbitrage and speculation is porous, and it can be hard for managers to be certain that arbitrageurs have not in fact started to speculate on the rise or fall of prices. Two of the most celebrated “rogue traders”—Nick Leeson of Barings Bank and Jerome Kerviel of Societe General—were arbitrageurs who covertly became very large-scale speculators.

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 In hedge funds, the manager/arbitrageur divide is typically much less marked: even in large funds such as LTCM the two roles are not distinct. Investors, however, form a more immediate audience than they do in the case of banks. Hedge funds report changes in net asset values to their investors monthly, while banks report quarterly or less frequently (depending on the jurisdiction in which they are incorporated), and losses in a hedge fund’s trading are not masked by the profitability of other lines of business as they often are in banks. So a large loss by a hedge fund conducting arbitrage—even a “paper” loss— quickly becomes visible. One hedge fund manager (and former investment banker) told us that in a bank “you can justify why you want to hold on to those positions,” while hedge fund investors “don’t care. They just look at the number [change in net asset value].” The threat of investors withdrawing their capital from the fund is thus almost continuous: “there is very small tolerance to losing money. . . . [W]e cannot have a losing month.”
 The risk of arbitrageurs in a bank having to abandon their positions because of temporary losses is reduced if managers understand and accept the theory underpinning a trade, and thus believe that losses will indeed be temporary. One advantage of investment banks with long experience of arbitrage over newcomers such as the Japanese firm studied by Miyazaki is that this understanding is much more likely. Often, though, the technical details of arbitrage trading are daunting even to those with extensive market experience. In such cases, trust in arbitrage in practice often has to be trust in the arbitrageur or arbitrageurs as particular people, just as in many cases trust in science comes down to trust in the scientist (see Shapin 1994). A hedge fund, a university endowment manager, or an individual trader or trading desk at a bank who or which has built up a good reputation is more likely to be trusted. LTCM’s founder John W. Meriwether had led Wall Street’s premier arbitrage desk (at Salomon Brothers), and his colleagues included other traders with high personal reputations. They were able to have LTCM’s investors accept a three-year “lock-in” in which they were not allowed to withdraw capital, and even after the near bankruptcy in 1998 they successfully recruited investors to a successor fund, JWM Partners.
 Losses, even temporary, can, in addition, be avoided if other arbitrageurs and professional traders also come to view the price difference that an arbitrageur is exploiting as a discrepancy. In our hedge-fund observations, for example, we were struck by the extent of the circulation among traders in different funds and banks, mainly by electronic mail, of ideas for trading; and in wider interviews with professional traders we have found almost all pay much attention to what others seem to be doing. If that discussion and attention leads others also to seek to exploit a discrepancy, then their purchases and sales will narrow the discrepancy, or at least reduce the risk of it widening. That, for example, was why the trader discussed in this chapter’s second section wanted the chart displaying the 14s/40s anomaly circulated to others. “All I want is people even to talk about it,” the trader told us. If others also took action on the pricing anomaly, they would prevent it widening. Should it widen, the trader explained, he might even come to doubt his belief (the “theory” behind the trade) that the anomaly was a discrepancy that would close. “There might be a reason [for the anomaly] I don’t understand. I might have to reconsider the decision [to construct a trading position predicated on it narrowing].”

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 Another way of minimizing the risk of premature capital withdrawal is diversification. If a fund, trading desk, or bank holds a wide variety of arbitrage positions—for example, in different parts of the world and in different asset classes—then, on the face of it, there is little likelihood of enough of those positions losing money simultaneously to create a serious overall loss. (The matched “long” and “short” positions characteristic of arbitrage mean that common factors such as global economic conditions, the levels of interest rates, and the buoyancy of stock markets should have little or no effect.) Diversification of this kind was, for instance, a core aspect of LTCM’s strategy.
 However, the constant attention of many professional traders to what others are doing may undercut the benefits of diversification. If large numbers of traders are led all to take similar positions, then arbitrages that “ought” to be uncorrelated can suddenly become linked. This, for example, was what caused LTCM’s diversification to fail. LTCM tried hard to keep its positions private: as a very large market participant with a largely locked-in capital base, it was concerned less with the benefits of others preventing discrepancies widening than with their trading causing the opportunities it was exploiting to diminish or vanish. However, others did frequently take on similar positions, either because they were following the same general strategy (in part in emulation of LTCM’s success) or because they learned specifics of LTCM’s trading from those who took the other side of those trades. “I can’t believe how many times I was told to do a trade because the boys at Long-Term deemed it a winner,” says one hedge fund manager (Cramer 2002: 179).
 The resultant overlapping set of arbitrage positions made it possible for an event to which LTCM itself had only a limited exposure—the Russian government’s default on its rouble-denominated bonds on August 17, 1998—to cause sudden, highly correlated, adverse price movements across the globe and in apparently unrelated asset classes. Arbitrageurs who incurred losses in Russia had to liquidate positions (even in apparently unrelated assets) to meet margin calls, withdrawals by investors, and other demands on their capital. In aggregate, the positions they sought to liquidate overlapped considerably with each other and with LTCM’s portfolio. These liquidations in turn caused more losses, leading to further liquidations, and so on in a disastrous, market- paralysing spiral.
 The sociality of arbitrage goes beyond relations to particular others such as managers, hedge fund investors, and other arbitrageurs: the conduct of arbitrage is affected deeply by the forms of action in financial markets that are seen as permissible and to be encouraged or as impermissible and to be discouraged. One persistent issue is the difference in this respect between the two standard “legs” of an arbitrage trade. Typically, a price discrepancy is exploited by buying (or in other ways taking a “long” position in) an undervalued asset, and short selling a similar overvalued counterpart.
 Long positions are almost always regarded as unproblematic, but short positions have historically often been the object of suspicion. Short sellers are frequently blamed for falls in price, and the activity is seen as morally reprehensible for other reasons: for instance, in current interpretations, borrowing securities in order to short sell them is contrary to Sharia, creating a problem for those who wish to set up “Islamic” hedge funds.

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In some markets (for example, Mexican government bonds) only specific, trusted market participants are allowed by regulators to sell short. In other markets short selling by a wide range of participants is permitted but is constrained in other ways. Until 2007, for example, short sales of stock in the US were subject to the “uptick rule” (see, for example, Robotti n.d.)—they were prohibited unless the last price change had been upwards—which could cause substantial delays in short selling if prices are falling consistently. Because the extent of the problems of short selling varies from asset to asset, systematic effects of these problems can be detected. Thus Dow Jones futures and other stock-index futures seem to tend more often to be below the value implied by the level of underlying index than above it (Shalen n.d.). The trading required to exploit “overpricing” of futures is straightforward: the arbitrageur has to establish a short position in futures (which means simply selling futures, and involves no particular difficulties), while buying the stocks that make up the index (also straightforward). In contrast, exploiting “underpricing” of futures requires the arbitrageur to buy futures (again straightforward), but it also involves short selling the underlying stocks, which is, as noted, often more problematic.

ARBITRAGE AND THE CREDIT CRISIS

Arbitrage played a central role in the genesis of the credit crisis that erupted in the summer of 2007 and culminated in the near-collapse of the global banking system in autumn 2008. At the core of the crisis were two classes of structured security: asset-backed securities (ABSs) and collateralized debt obligations (CDOs). The constructor of an ABS or CDO sets up a legal vehicle (a trust or special purpose corporation), which buys a pool of mortgages or other forms of consumer debt (in the case of ABSs) or of corporate debt in the case of the original CDOs. (An important category of CDO known as ABS CDOs bought ABSs rather than corporate debts for their pool.) The money needed for this special purpose vehicle to buy the debt for its pool was raised by selling to investors securities that were claims on the cash flow generated by the debt. Those claims were “tranched”: the holders of the topmost tranche (“senior” or sometimes “super-senior”) had the first claim on the cash flows from the pool, which meant that this tranche was the safest. The holders of intermediate tranches (referred to as “mezzanine”) were next to have their claims met. At the bottom of the hierarchy was a tranche (known as the “first-loss piece” in the case of ABSs and “equity” in the case of CDOs), the holders of which were paid only after the claims of all the higher tranches had been met. This tranche was thus the riskiest. If there were defaults on the mortgages or other forms of debt making up the pool of an ABS or CDO, the holders of the lowest tranche were the first to suffer the consequent loss. Only if losses mounted to such a level that the lowest tranche was entirely wiped out would the holders of the next-lowest tranche suffer a loss. These different levels of risk were compensated in the form of higher interest payments on lower tranches, with the topmost tranche typically paying out only a small “spread” (that is, only a small increment over a benchmark interest rate such as Libor, or London Interbank Offered Rate).

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 There were various motivations for setting up ABSs and CDOs. ABSs, for example, were initially created mainly as a way of raising capital for mortgage lending, while many of the early CDOs were designed to remove the risks of corporate lending from bank’s balance sheets. However, from the end of the 1990s onward, arbitrage became an increasingly important motivation, first in the case of CDOs (some of which were explicitly called “arbitrage CDOs”) and then for ABSs. The arbitrage was quite simple in conception: investors could be persuaded to buy the tranches of an ABS or CDO in return for payments that were, in aggregate, smaller than the cash flows from the debt in the ABS or CDO pool. If, in such a situation, the constructors of an ABS or a CDO could sell all its tranches to investors, they could capture the difference as risk-free arbitrage profit. What was being arbitraged in this case was directly social in nature: it was the authority of the credit-rating agencies and the way in which their ratings were built in to structures of governance in the financial markets. For example, pension funds in the United States are generally allowed to buy only securities with investment-grade ratings, and money-market funds are often restricted to the highest of those ratings. The capital- adequacy rules governing banking also gave banks themselves increasing incentives to hold securities with the highest ratings.
 The way in which the rating agencies evaluated ABSs and CDOs made it possible to create large tranches rated AAA out of pools of debt of lower credit quality. (For the details of the modeling procedures involved, and an account of the empirical research being drawn on here, see MacKenzie 2009b.) This may sound like alchemy (or deliberate wrongdoing by the rating agencies), but was in fact initially perfectly justifiable; even if the chances of default on any individual mortgage or corporate loan were far from tiny, combining those mortgages or loans in a pool meant that likely losses were reasonably predictable and could be absorbed by lower tranches and other forms of protection against default, greatly reducing the probability of the highest tranches incurring a loss. However, the very attractiveness of the consequent arbitrage had the effect of undermining the empirical accuracy of the models used to produce these ratings, at least in the case of mortgages. The capacity to package mortgages into ABSs, and then to package those ABSs into CDOs, greatly reduced incentives for caution in lending, and also made it possible for the volume of that lending to expand considerably, thus setting the scene for the crisis in the US mortgage market that started to become apparent in the second half of 2006 and reached disastrous levels from summer 2007 onwards.
 Huge losses for investors in ABSs and CDOs (especially ABS CDOs) were thus created, but perhaps most surprising was the extent to which those losses accumulated within the financial system itself, rather than being passed on to end investors. Especially in the case of ABS CDOs (the category of instrument that did most damage to the financial system), specific features of the arbitrage had the unintended consequence of concentrating rather than distributing losses. Most important were the super-senior tranches of ABS CDOs. As suggested above, those tranches could offer only very modest “spreads” without undermining the profitability of the arbitrage, and the low “spreads”

200 IAIN HARDIE AND DONALD MACKENZIE

meant that despite their AAA ratings, these tranches were hard to sell to external investors. Accordingly, banks tended to retain them themselves, frequently keeping the trade apparently riskless by “insuring” those tranches with the specialist bond insurers known as “monolines” or the financial products division of the giant insurer AIG. (Because the risk of loss on these super-senior tranches appeared very low indeed, the cost of purchasing this insurance was less than the spread offered by the senior tranches, so leaving a small arbitrage profit.) However, the giant scale on which the arbitrage was conducted meant that when losses did begin to hit even the AAA tranches of ABS CDOs, those who had insured those tranches against loss were often unable to meet their obligations. The US government had to step in and rescue AIG, and banks were often left with no alternative but to accept much lower payouts from monolines than those to which they were legally entitled.

 As noted, the sociality of arbitrage is here most evident in the role of credit ratings. The materiality of prices is also important in the market for ABSs, CDOs, and the “credit default swaps” that “insured” tranches of these products against loss. These instruments are not traded on an organized exchange such as those in Chicago, but directly negotiated between institutions, and the crucial such institutions were a small number (around a dozen) of major international banks, which, for example, acted as “market-makers” in credit default swaps, constantly quoting the prices at which they would “sell” protection against loss and “buy” such protection. The material form that these prices took was e-mail messages to other market participants such as more minor banks and hedge funds. Those messages were tailored to the particular client: large-scale, valued clients were often offered better prices than smaller ones.
 Clearly, such practices depended upon keeping control of the circulation of prices, so that less favored clients would not know the better prices being offered to others. However, a specialist firm, CMA, created a system, known as “QuoteVision,” which parsed the incoming e-mail messages received by all its subscribers, extracted the prices from them, and made those prices available to each subscriber. In response, many of the major market-makers started to send out price quotes in the form of e-mail messages that could not be forwarded to the QuoteVision system. However, CMA has been able to circumvent this by developing a system that electronically “scans” incoming e-mails (even if these are not forwardable), and continues to extract prices from them. The materiality of prices is thus at the heart of a subterranean conflict in this area, between the large market-making banks and their frequently smaller, less prominent clients.

CONCLUSION

Our argument in this chapter has been that arbitrage—how it is practiced, its risks, its uncertainties, its limits, and its capacities to weld markets together into a financial system—can properly be understood only if it is grasped in its full materiality and sociality. That kind of rich, qualitative understanding is, of course, different from the more abstract but quantitatively more precise understanding typically sought by economists, even “behavioral finance” specialists. Nevertheless, there are areas of overlap between a “social studies of finance” perspective and financial economists’ investigation of the consequences of relaxing their discipline’s traditional purist definition of arbitrage.
 For example, Shleifer and Vishny (1997) model the risk that those who provide arbitrageurs with capital will withdraw it prematurely in the face of temporarily adverse price movements. Brav and Heaton (2002) address what in our terms is the difficulty that arbitrageurs can have convincing themselves and their audiences that a price pattern is indeed a discrepancy that can be the object of arbitrage. In circulating the chart of the price history of the Brazil 14s and 40s, the trader we observed was seeking to solve in practice the problem modeled by Abreu and Brunnermeier (2002): the limit to arbitrage that can arise when “rational traders face uncertainty about when their peers will exploit a common arbitrage opportunity” (2002: 341). Attari, Mello, and Ruckes (2005) model a risk that became very pertinent for LTCM after the fund’s difficulties became known to others at the start of September 1998, but of which all large arbitrageurs need to be wary: that the combination of capital constraints and positions known to other traders can make arbitrageurs’ actions predictable and exploitable.
 Shleifer and Vishny, Brav and Heaton, Abreu and Brunnermeier, and Attari, Mello, and Ruckes put forward four separate models, each capturing one of the aspects that we posit as intrinsic to arbitrage as market practice. No integrated model has yet emerged from the literature in economics on the limits of arbitrage, but our research suggests that it is in the interaction of arbitrage’s aspects that its crucial limits may reside. Thus the crisis surrounding LTCM arose from the way in which the process of capital withdrawal modeled by Shleifer and Vishny interacted with the consequences of others imitating a single prominent arbitrageur, and LTCM’s crisis was worsened (to a degree that is hard to determine) by other traders “arbitraging the arbitrageur” in the manner modeled by Attari, Mello, and Ruckes.
 We would therefore be hopeful that the study of arbitrage could be a productive area of collaboration between financial economists and those in the wider social sciences prepared to tackle financial markets in their full materiality and sociality. We are, in addition, certain that arbitrage is a pivotal topic for the sociology of finance. The details of arbitrage may seem to be little things, but they are little things connected to big issues such as the credit crisis. The powers and limits of arbitrage are critical to global financial markets, and the material sociology we advocate is needed to understand them.

2015年10月19日 星期一

Chapter 6  What is a financial market? 
                  Global markets as microinstitutional and post-traditional social forms作為微觀制度和後傳統社會形態的全球市場

-Karin  Knorr  Cetina  

Few concepts today are as widely used as the concept of a market, few are accorded more importance, and few slip away more easily when closely examined. Financial markets in particular have a stunning and ever more ambivalent presence in our world.)  The financial crisis of 2008–9 surely made it apparent that financial markets have become a measure of well-being in countries where individuals depend on them for pensions, credit, and income, and governments and corporations depend on them for growth and investments. Yet, when we search for a market concept that captures what we observe in a financial market, we will not readily find it in sociology or even economics. 

今天很少有概念被廣泛使用作為市場的概念,很少有人給予更為重視,而更容易被更容易地被仔細檢查。特別是在金融市場有一個驚人的,越來越多的矛盾在我們的世界的存在。)2008–9肯定金融危機使它明顯,金融市場已經成為人們依靠他們的養老金,國家衡量幸福的信用,和收入,以及政府和企業依賴於它們的增長和投資。然而,當我們尋找一個市場的概念,捕捉到我們在金融市場觀察到的,我們將不容易發現它在社會學,甚至經濟學。從行為的角度來看,
What is a financial market from a behavioral rather than a functional perspective? Is there a special “ finance motive” that characterizes financial markets but not other kinds? Is a financial market in some sense a coordinated collective form?  Think of the common contrast between markets, hierarchies, and networks. Markets feature in such distinctions as the least structured entity; in fact, the mechanism of supply-and-demand that guarantees a balanced, working market in economics is not a principle of social coordination at all, but an invisible hand that works through self-interested, dispersed participants who adjust their choices to price signals.
什麼是金融市場?金融市場的特徵是否存在特殊的金融動機,而不是其他類型?金融市場在某種意義上是一種協調的集體形式嗎?認為市場,層次結構和網路之間的共同對比。市場特徵以這樣的區分為主體,事實上,供應與需求的機制,保證了平衡的,在經濟上的工作市場是不是一個社會協調的原則,但一個無形的手,通過自我感興趣的,分散的參與者調整自己的選擇,價格信號。
This chapter looks at the ways in which a financial market is not an empty configuration at all but rather a densely structured and coordinated cultural form. Empirical research has long suggested various action-level components of financial markets (e.g., Abolafia 1996; Baker 1984 ; Knorr Cetina forthcoming; Knorr Cetina and Bruegger 2002;  Preda 2009a , 2009b ; Smith 1999 , 2007 , this volume; Zaloom  2006 ).  
本章著眼於金融市場不是一個空洞的結構,而是一個密集的組織和協調的文化形態。實證研究一直認為金融市場的各個動作成分(例如,貝克Abolafia 19961984;諾爾-塞蒂納動靜;諾爾-塞蒂納和Bruegger2002;而2009A2009B;史密斯19992007,這卷;紮魯姆2006)。

116

This chapter builds on this research; it specifically tries to capture key characteristics of those financial markets that are now global in nature and based entirely on electronic trading.
Before outlining these features, I first look at existing market concepts, which are based on how we view markets in the primary economy. I argue that financial markets are not like the primary markets of a production economy; if production, consumption, and their interface, exchange, are the three pillars of the economy, finance is a fourth pillar.
本章是本研究的基礎上,它具體地嘗試捕捉到的主要特徵是目前全球的金融市場,在本質上完全基於電子交易。在概述這些功能之前,我先看看現有的市場概念,這是基於我們如何看待市場的主要經濟。我認為,金融市場是不一樣的生產經濟的主要市場,如果生產,消費,和他們的介面,交換,是經濟的三大支柱,金融是四分之一支柱。
The next two sections clarify this, and the following two look at the architecture of global financial markets. In contrast to what the idea of an atomistic market suggests, financial markets appear to be coordinated by a central media mechanism which is “scopic” and functions like a mirror -  coordination is based on a projected, augmented, and continually updated electronic rendering and image of the market. 
接下來的兩節明確了這一點,下面看看全球金融市場的架構。相反,一個原子的市場理念表明,金融市場似乎由中央媒體機構,的鏡子作用協調是基於投影,增強,和不斷更新的電子繪製和圖像的市場。

On participants’ side, this corresponds to the coercive demand for continuous observation and responsiveness; financial markets have a microsociological “build,” which is highlighted in the regime of attention by which they are governed. The next section explores how such markets, which are systems outside organizations, intersect with firms.
對參與者的一面,這對應於連續觀察和反應性的強制要求;金融市場有一個微觀社會學的建立,這是在關注政權所統治的突出。第二部分探討了如何在外部組織,与公司相交的市场。

The last section illustrates the temporal vectors of financial markets: I discuss analytic time as a feature of a market that runs forward at its own speed and schedules; the market flow across time zones; and the global communities of time the regime of attention creates. 
最後一節說明瞭時間向量的金融市場:我讨论分析的时间,作为一个市场的特点,以自己的速度和时间表运行;整个时区的市场流通;以及全球关注的社会团体,创造了时间的制度。

All of these characteristics identify financial markets as nontraditional in terms of the mechanisms involved, which are nonhierarchical, mediative-scopic, and extended from the very intimate face-to-face situation. They also identify financial markets as a collective social form — a forerunner, perhaps, of an organizational design that is both genuinely global and postindustrial in nature. 
所有這些特徵識別在機制方面的非傳統金融市場,這是公平的,調解下,從非常親密的面對面的情況擴展。他們還確定金融市場作為一個集體的社會形式的先行者,也許,一個組織的設計,是真正的全球性和後工業時代的本質。

   
    Market concepts  市場理念 p.116



 Conclusion  

It is plain that the emergence of such attentionally integrated communities is premised on the presence of scopic media—on the screen as a device that continually rolls out the market, “ flowing ” it to viewers as a reality of its own. 
結論顯而易見,這種attentionally綜合社區的出現是以視覺媒體在螢幕上存在的一種裝置,不斷推出市場,“flowing”給觀眾一個自己的現實。
Markets are transactional worlds connected not only via traditional organizational media, such as networks or rules of trading practice, but via reflexive mirroring systems that gather up transactions, augmenting and embodying them as “market” for an audience of observers. 
市場是通過傳統的組織媒體,如網路或交易規則的規則連接的交易世界,但通過反射鏡系統收集交易,增強和體現為市場的觀眾的觀察員。

While human-to-human trading remains a possibility in these markets, human-to-screen/ market trading appears dominant, and trading by algorithms (market-to-market trading) is an increasingly important component. 
雖然人對人的交易仍然是一種可能性,在這些市場中,人的螢幕/市場交易的出現占主導地位,和交易的演算法(市場交易市場)是一個日益重要的組成部分。

The concept of a coercive response system intends to capture the micro-institutional foundation of these markets, while also seeing them as scopic environments in which media and media feeds have become embedded in human interaction. 
一個強制回應系統的概念試圖捕捉這些市場的微觀制度基礎,同時也看到他們的視覺環境中,媒體和媒體已經成為嵌入式人機交互。

The scopic mode of life raises research questions not addressed in this chapter, for example the question of how the attentional resources located not only on an organizational, technological, and interactional  level, but also on a cognitive (information processing) and neural level, supplement and interact with one another. 
生命的視覺模式,提出研究的問題在本章不加以解決,例如如何注意資源位於不僅在組織,技術,和互動的水準,而且在認知(資訊處理)和神經水準,補充和相互作用。

Another vector in the scopic realm which I cannot discuss here concerns the emotional and libidinal underpinning of trading—and how it relates to the sociology of greed as a relevant phenomenon in the trading ecologies of finance.   
另一個向量在視覺的領域,我不能在這裡討論的是情感和性欲的基礎交易以及它與貪婪的社會學在金融交易系統的相關現象。



2015年10月9日 星期五

-Chapter 13 Financial analysts

-Chapter 13 Financial analysts


Introduction 

Financial analysts "guide investors and asset managers in their investment choices and are central to investment banking, providing expertise on initial public offerings, mergers and acquisitions; they assess and manage financial risks in a variety of settings, and they help create new investment instruments" (Knorr Cetina 2011:405). Thus, instead of investing or speculating on financial markets themselves, "financial analysts are individuals compensated for providing investment research information, recommendations, advice, or market decisions" (Bauman 1988:1,809).2 Within financial institutions (investment banks, insurance companies, mutual, pension, and hedge funds, securities firms, and so forth), 
analysts specialize in different markets (such as equities, fixed income, foreign exchange, and commodities), particular 
objects traded on these mar­kets (such as companies, industries, currencies), 
specific methods (e.g. fundamental analysis and chart analysis), and 
specific types of "advice" business, that is, sell side (advice as a service to a brokerage's clients) or buy side (advice for proprietary or mandatory investment). 


In 2008, 250,600 financial analysts (including fund and portfolio managers) were working in the United States, of which 47 percent were employed in the finance or insurance business (BLS 2010).3 In the same year, 115,000 candidates from 150 countries registered for the Chartered Financial Analyst (CFA) exam program, the most established certification for analysts. The CFA designation is currently held by 86,700 financial professionals, of which approximately 20 percent work as financial analysts. Increasingly, analysts from non-US regions pass the CFA exam; while the share of Asian charter-holders is still only 15 percent, Asians now account for 40 percent of CFA candi­dates. More than 70 percent of candidates in 2008 were younger than 30 years of age (CFA 2010).

This chapter is based on a review of the sociological and economic literature as well as my own research on analysts in foreign exchange markets (Wansleben forthcoming). The sociological research can be organized according to two important traditions. 
One conceptualizes analysts as institutional and organizational agents. "Institutionalists" show that analysts maintain hegemonic categories for valuating financial entities (shareholder value), that they imitate other analysts' judgments, and that they often act as intermediaries divided by conflicts of interest.
A second tradition studies analysts' knowledge practices and uncovers the omnipresence of choice and interpretation. Here, analysts are portrayed as selectively drawing on quantitative and qualitative information as well as constructing calculative frames and stories; analysts' knowledge is characterized as distinct from scientific knowledge. Financial economics mainly studies analysts when testing market forecasts. Alfred Cowles already administered such tests in 1933 but they have become increasingly relevant in the context of the efficient market hypothesis (EMH). Behavioral finance studies analysts in order to explore deviations from rationality and efficiency (such as herd behavior or overreaction to news); financial economists are also interested in "conflicts of interests."
The most severe limitation of these various research strands, as reflected in the present chapter, is the predominant focus on analysts within the context of US-American equities markets.
In the following sections, I will discuss the existing literature by focusing on the questions of, first, analysts' historical emergence, practices, and professionalism, and then on the role of analysts in financial market capitalism.

HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES

The following account distinguishes two separate histories of financial analysis—that of "chart analysis," also known as "technical analysis," and "fundamental analysis". Historical literature on analysts is generally scarce but the history of fundamental analysis can be reconstructed from practitioner accounts.
Financial analysis emerged as a twentieth-century profession.
In the eighteenth and much of the nineteenth century, finance in general was not yet associated with professional status or knowledge. In contrast, many writers and intellectuals at that time regarded finance as a sphere of immorality and antiscience, associating it with "dark powers," "dishonorable skills," "illusion and folly," or the "Devil's Mechanick" (Preda 2009:85). This view, as Geoffrey Poitras (2005: 87) points out, applied to stock markets in particular. However, during their subsequent institutionalization and professionalization, 市場人士market practitioners began to develop authoritative accounts of finance, using media such as "how-to" brochures and para-scientific treatments.
These texts made two contributions: they created an early rationalization of financial behavior, based on rules and information, and they drew analogies between finance and established scientific enterprises, especially physics and biology. According to Alex Preda (2007, 2009), the introduction of the stock ticker in 1867 (Preda 2006) triggered the rise of a first paraprofessional group of analysts—the "chartists." This group, located on the east coast of the US, was formed even "before fundamental analysis emerged as a form of financial expertise in the 1930s and before the main principles of financial economics were systematically elaborated in the 1950s and the 1960s" (Preda 2009:170), Preda's argument is that while financial markets became institutionalized and technologized through the price-recordings of the ticker, a certain group formed around techniques and strategies of "privileged witnessing" of ticker information, primarily by visually charting, interpreting, and forecasting price variations. This formation was a contingent sociocultural process, based on networks among market insiders, support by academics, creation of charismatic leadership, and the development of an idiosyncratic language of "double bottoms," "head-and-shoulders," and so on. Existing relationships with (potential) customers were also key, but still more important was chart analysts' success in reconfiguring their role as the "legitimated Other" (Meyer and Jepperson 2000).
Fundamental analysis emerged from a different tradition, and its forerunners were the "statisticians" and "ingenious accountants" within banks (Jacobson 1997: 19-20) rather than chart analysts.5 Before 1929, however, these statisticians and accountants faced a serious obstacle to their analyses: neither corporations nor financial insiders shared information on corporate earnings and book values (among others) with the general public (Knorr Cetina 2011). This became increasingly problematic as more "outsiders" gradually invested in the financial markets, especially during the bond boom of the 1920s. Accordingly, key events in the emergence of fundamental analysis were the Great Crash and New Deal's regulatory responses to it. New Deal legislators were convinced that one of the key causes for the 1929 crash was that "investors [had been] misled by exaggerated claims and inadequate disclosure of the true financial position of corporations" (Simon 1989:296). They thus introduced several reforms, the most important of which are the Securities Exchange Acts of 1933 and 1934. While the 1933 Act primarily established laws for new issues, including registration and disclosure requirements, the 1934 Act focused on annual, biennial, and event-related reporting requirements for traded securities (Benston 1973: 133), attributing supervisory functions to the newly founded Securities and Exchange Commission, or SEC. Jacobson regards these Acts as "founding legislation" (1997: 25) of fundamental analysis.
How could a "profession" be "founded" on the basis not of the scarcity of information, but of its abundance? Jacobson identifies two factors:
first, analysts had developed practices of interpreting companies' earnings power as well as the "value" of securities before 1933. As a result, they had the organizational position in order to claim this interpretation/valuation as their jurisdiction. One major figure, Benjamin Graham, along with David Dodd, synthesized a methodology in Security Analysis, first published in 1934- At the very beginning of the 1962 edition of the book, they maintain:
The objectives of security analysis are twofold:
First, it seeks to present the important facts regarding a publicly held corporate stock or bond issue in a manner most informing and useful to an actual or potential owner. 
Second it seeks to reach dependable conclusions, based upon the facts and applicable standards, as to the safety and attractiveness of a given security at the current market price or at some assumed price. (Graham, Dodd, and Cottle [1934) 1962:1)
Hence, as a response to the Great Crash and the new regulatory situation (Poitras 2005: 110), Graham and Dodd redefined the financial analyst as follows:
first, he or she was supposed to research, collect, organize, and summarize information provided by companies. While information was in principle public, it was still necessary to "dig for facts" (Graham, Dodd, and Cottle [1934] 1962:1), to select important aspects, and to "make various kinds of adjustment to the material in order to bring out the true operating results in the period covered and particularly in order to place the data of a number of companies in a fairly comparable plane" (25).
Second, the analyst was supposed to act as "financial statesman," critically assessing the soundness of companies' accounting methods, information, and compliance with the rules (34-5).
Third, the task of the analyst was valuation, judgment, and, as the final outcome, advice. This objective could be fulfilled, according to Graham and Dodd, when the analyst properly valuated securities, based on "indicated average future earning power" (28, emphasis in original), comparing these valuations with the current market prices. Cases of over- or undervaluation—a frequent instance according to the authors—provided investment opportunities. To some extent, then, Graham and Dodd developed a profile of financial analysis that they likened to professions such as law and medicine (24): "Results could not be guaranteed, but the integrity of the process itself could be of some comfort" (Jacobson 1997:56). The critical feature was the definition of tasks that could be, to some extent, standardized, that is, based on abstract knowledge likened to a "science" (Graham [1952] 1995). It must be considered, however, that many people, especially academics, challenged the possibility of codifying financial knowledge and that even Graham emphasized the importance of judgment (Graham [1952] 1995:30).
A second factor, though, was equally important for the rise of financial analysis in the post-1929 context: the ongoing financialization of the US economy and public. Jacobson (i997: 46) provides the following description: "Through the agency of pension funds (many started up during the war), mutual funds and insurance companies, an ever-wider slice of the general public was introduced to the experience and advantages of stock ownership."7
Share ownership doubled in the 1950s (Jacobson 1997:109). This expansion created not only demand for investment advice but also, on the basis of New Deal legislation, public legitimacy for analysts as advocates of the growing number of lay investors in need of information. Jacobson avers that "once generally ignored, or worse, by their subjects, the analysts had been acquiring legitimacy in recent years. They spoke of a building-up process that by the early 1950s had reached a point where when analysts asked, executives answered" (Jacobson 1997:7).
Analysts developed professional organizations. Growing local societies in numerous American cities became advocacy and training institutions, representing what was now known as financial analysis.
From 1945 onwards, the New York society had its own journal, The Analysts Journal (later Financial Analysts Journal);
in 1947, local societies were integrated into a National Federation of Financial Analysts (NFAA), later known as the Financial Analysts Federation (FAF). Professionalism and the codification of analysts' knowledge became central projects of the Federation. The NFAA thus founded the Institute of Certified Financial Analysts (ICFA) in order to prepare, administer, an evaluate a professional certificate for analysts: the CFA. The institute operated from 1959 onward and administered the first tests in 1963.
Another development was critical, as researched by Donald MacKenzie. In his book An Engine, Not a Camera, he describes how "in the 1960s and 1970s the new financial economics gradually became a recognized, reasonably high-status, enduring part of the academic landscape, one that could, and did, successfully reproduce itself and grow (MacKenzie 2008:72).
The outstanding elements of the new financial economics was modern portfolio theory (MPT), developed by Harry Markowitz and William Sharpe, Eugene Fama's EMF, the capital asset pricing model (CAPM), and the Black-Scholes-Merton formula. While the emergence and content of these "theories of finance" have been analyzed elsewhere one aspect is key for financial analysis: they all stand in sharp contradiction with the codified knowledge of financial analysts, especially Graham and Dodd's approach, as well as in contradiction with the hitherto assumed function of financial analysis. All these theories argue against the valuation of stocks on the basis of fundamental versus market value. They focus instead on risk as the relationship between an individual security's performance and the market. MPT, especially, can be understood as a severe attack on the analyst profession since it regards individual stock picking, known among analysts as the practice of "selection," as an inefficient investment strategy: "By shifting focus onto the portfolio diversification problem, modern Finance argued for the elimination of the firm specific risk that was the stock in trade of the Old Finance adherents" (Poitra 2005:123).
Indeed, analysts first reacted to the rise of new finance theory with "hostility” (MacKenzie 2008: 75). For instance, it is documented that these theories did not find their way into the Financial Analysts Journal until some time in the 1980s—long after their establishment in academia (Bernstein 1992). Even once recognized, however, analysts did not wholly adopt or subscribe to the theories. Rather, while academic approaches and the entire subject of fund management were subsequently included ii the CFA tests, they still coexist with analyst-specific practices of valuation and advice giving. Generally speaking, the development of financial economics indicates, however that theoretical knowledge has become gradually more important. The ICFA was and is the institution ready to profit from this development. As a quasi-academic institution situated at the University of Virginia, it can incorporate new academic ideas into the CFA test curriculum. Accordingly, the ICFA has gained significance in relation to the FAF and the local analyst societies (Jacobson 1997:124).
Another critical development has been the globalization of financial professions largely consisting of an (idiosyncratic) adoption of North American standards of professional designations and methods (including accounting standards). Societies on other continents, the European Federation of Financial Analysts' Societies (EFFAS) and the Asian Securities Analysts Federation (ASAF), were founded much later than FAF (in 1962 and 1995, respectively) and in cooperation with the US-Canadian Federation: National as well as continental federations today form the International Society of Financial Analysts (ISFA), The CFA, once invented as a certification within the context of US-Canadian "professionalization", is today "best described as a self-study, distance-learning program that takes a generalist approach to investment analysis, valuation, and portfolio management, and emphasizes the highest ethical and professional standards" (Johnson et al. 2008).
Tests are taken at different locations around the globe. However, due to the US bias of the CFA program, other regions have (collaboratively) developed alternative, less recognized certifications (e.g., the "Certified International Investment Analyst" designation). In addition, analysts' objects of study are globalizing: every serious global bank needs to cover "emerging markets," hence each needs research divisions focusing on (and sometimes being located in) Asia, Latin America, and what is referred to as EMEA (Eastern Europe, Middle East, and Africa).

ANALYST PRACTICES (P.255)

Practices are largely a sociological concern because practices only come into focus once we are interested in how institutional contexts, organizational cultures, technologies, commitments to different approaches, and changes in "prevalent theories of valuation" (Zuckerman 2000:614) are enacted by micro-choices during the actual "doing" of financial analysis. Such analyses contribute to the explanation of both isomorphism and differentiation in valuations largely ignored in orthodox financial economics (Zuckerman 2004).
Most research has focused on sell-side fundamental equity analysts. A prevalent interest is how this analyst group "frames" companies and their stocks within an economy and industry. In most cases, special economists employed by banks conduct macro-economic analyses (forecasts of cyclical and long-term growth, inflation, interest rates, exchange rates) and equity analysts are supposed to use these "inputs"—not least because this makes a bank's research "consistent." In reality, however, many analysts resist this "top-down procedure" (CFA 2008:118) because they distrust economists' forecasts. Either they have their own "big picture" or they simply do not regard macroeconomic forecasts as relevant (Mars 1998:36-44,58-72). More important are framings of companies according to industries because "industry boundaries reflect divisions among stock market product categories as well as the professional specialties of securities analysts. Divisions among industry specialties are reinforced by public rankings which evaluate analysts within industries" (Zuckerman 1999: 1,408). The textbooks emphasize that analysts should analyze how industries are differently affected by the growth cycle, demographic developments, changes in trade conditions, technological developments, politics, and regulation. Further, they should use quantitative and qualitative means to discern the value chains and competition structure of an industry. Mars (1998) shows that such industry analyses are far from straightforward: analysts face considerable data problems, cope with the unpredictability of industry "trends," and realize that many companies within an industry are indeed not comparable. Zuckerman (2004) analyzes the problem of framing and classification in terms of the "structural incoherence" and ambiguous identity of some stocks, resulting in heterogeneous valuations and, in consequence, price volatility as well as excessive trading. Beunza and Gari (2007: 26) suggest that analysts exploit these ambiguities: they do not passively adopt but actively construct "calculative frames," consisting of "internally consistent networks of associations, including (among others) categories, metrics and analogies." Beun and Garud further show the efficacy of creativity in "calculative framing": during period from 1998 to 2000, divergent framings of Amazon.com as an Internet company and as a bookseller generated very different valuations and sparked "framing controversies" among prominent analysts (see Figure 13.1).

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Blodget Category

Abelson     Category

FIGURE 13.1 Two "Calculative Frames" for Amazon.com Constructed by the Analysts Hen Blodget and Jonathan Cohen (Beunza & Garud 2007: 27).

By using different industry classifications ("Category"), analogies to other companies and metrics, the two analysts arrive at a target value of the Amazon.com stock of $400 (Blodget) and $50 (Cohen).
Besides economic and industry frames, "overflowings" (such as terrorist attacks a bank crashes) and alterations (such as new tools and new models) of these frames, analysts are primarily concerned with company information (Barker 1998:10). Indeed, the profession of fundamental analysis only emerged once companies were required to "disclose" their financial situation. Analysts' main sources are the annual and quarterly result announcements and financial statements, unexpected company press releases and other related news (see Table 13.1). However, companies must not be understood neutral information providers but as interested self-promoters, engaged in various practices of "creative accounting," "window dressing," and outright "cooking of the books”. The challenge for analysts therefore is to act as a "financial statesman" (Graham, Dodd, and Cottle [1934] 1963:34-5) or financial detective, looking for clues of inconsistent in company reports (Mars 1998:96). But checking the official reports would not suffice: a good analyst would need to be "out on the streets," going to companies' analyst conferences, maintaining intense contact with investor relations officers, visiting headquarters and production sites (Mars 1998:86-111). Knorr Cetina coins such company visits "proxy ethnographies" because they aim to fill the gaps left by disclosed information, following an "impressionist" logic (Knorr Cetina 2010: 34-7; see also Mars 1998:103 and Faust, Bahnmiiller, and Fisecker 2010:53). Summarizing the specific nature of analyst knowledge, Knorr Cetina (2011) argues that analysts' entire "epistemic profile" is conditioned upon the temporal (decaying) and proxy ontology of their ground data.
How do analysts come from this informational reality to their "product," namely advice and recommendations based on valuations? In fact, analysts do valuate but their final statements of what a company is worth might be less relevant than commonly thought. Many authors, for example Winroth, Blomberg, and Kjellberg (2010:10-11), argue that customers, especially the more sophisticated financial clients, are more interested in facts, underlying assumptions, arguments, and stories than in recommendations; Hagglund (2000) posits that analysts' choice of valuation models is more influenced by facilitating client conversations about the "quasi-company" rather than by their functionality in calculating objective value. Principally, two valuation methods can be distinguished: intrinsic and relative. Intrinsic valuation is based on the notion of net present value of actual future cash flows from the company to the investor. Models that calculate intrinsic value accordingly include the dividend discount model (DDM), operating cash flow model, and free cash flow to equity model (CFA 2008:174). While the notion of value here is quite clear, these models face the problem of inputs based on I estimates. Relative valuations circumvent some of these problems by looking a prevailing market valuations. Ratios used are price/earnings (P/E), price/cash flow (P/CF), price/book ratio (P/BV), and price/sales ratio (P/S). These ratios, however, also entail problems: according to the CFA handbook, the prevailing market valuation might be inflated by a bubble, comparisons of different ratios of different industries as well as among different companies might be misleading, and, again, estimates of earning, book value, and so forth can be wrong. Frank Mars (1998) studies the actual use of these  valuation methods. His first observation is the centrality, not of the models, but of analysts maintain spreadsheets for all "their" companies with numerous column covering absolute and key figures (such as equity to asset ratios, profit margins, and return on equity). Key figures should make companies commensurable but such commensurability often fails (Chambost 2010:7-8). Mars further notes that
not one of the analysts I studied analyzed the "intrinsic value" of a company. The main reason for not following the textbook method is the complexity of the procedure. The formula requires you to predict three factors and in all three cases you can be wrong. (1998:139)10
Instead, analysts estimate earnings directly (using gut feelings, tinkering with figures, and so forth) and then use these estimates as inputs to P/E. Moreover, they cope with the contingencies of this method by starting not with the calculation but rather with the story they aim to tell about a company. Numbers are then adjusted until they fit the plot. Stories are at the center of analyst practices because they absorb heterogeneous information, connect past and future, and rely on well-established (commonsense) plots. Moreover, stories, usually communicated via reports, facilitate analysts' conversations with clients (Hagglund 2000:329), motivate trading (Knorr Cetina 2010:28-9), and fuel status differentiation within the analyst community (Wansleben forthcoming).
The logic of fundamental valuation in equity analysis is to estimate some value indicator for the concerned company and relate this indicator to the market price. The outcome should then be an analyst's assessment of whether a company is over- or undervalued (Hooke 2010). What is known as market analysis, by contrast, aims at analyzing and/or predicting the (valuation) dynamics of markets in their own right. These dynamics have long been recognized and recently discussed under the heading of "reflexivity" (Black 1986; Keynes [1936] 1973; Soros 1994). Hardly any analyst, not even a dedicated "fundamentalist," can ignore this phenomenon.11 One simple reason might be that market prices deviate from "fundamental valuations" considerably and over extended periods of time. The other reason might be that analysts are acutely aware of how "market movers" (high-status traders and analysts) push prices and spread rumors, and how reciprocal observation drives price movements. Consequently, a central feature of financial analysis is that analysts observe each other. For that purpose, they primarily use a specific technology of "market expectations," namely analyst consensuses. First developed in 1971 by a US brokerage firm, analyst consensuses today are published by specialized information providers, including Reuters and Bloomberg. Analyst consensuses differ in detail but mainly consist of means and medians of analyst forecasts as well as listings of the individual forecasts of the contributing institutions for numerous economic variables, indexes, exchange rates, and company earnings (among others). Chambost (2010) discusses the homogenizing effect of analyst consensuses on both the companies covered and the analysts12 covering them, but she also stresses how analysts "play with" and differentiate on the basis of the consensus. More specifically, analysts use the consensus in three ways: they use it as a "simplification mechanism" or "anchor" when making their own forecasts; they take it as a reference point in order to consciously position themselves in relation to their competitors and the market as a whole; and they use the consensus in order to predict market surprises which occur when actual numbers deviate from the majority scenario. Developing surprise scenarios is a "fast and frugal heuristic" (Gigerenzer 2008) for predicting market movements without knowing the precise value of fundamentals (Svetlova 2010). The deployment of such tactics suggests that the dynamics of markets and analysts' daily coping strategies often conflict with the ideal of fundamental analysis, as set forth by Benjamin Graham and his followers. A tension thus arises between fundamental analysts' normative expectations regarding "fair" financial value and cognitive expectations about what actually drives market prices. Schmidt-Beck (2007) and Langenohl (2007) argue that analysts manage this tension by distinguishing between short-term volatility and long-term convergence between fundamentally determined value and market price. The expectation of long-term rationality, then, is normative because it is inflexibly sustained despite counterfactual evidence which is interpreted as "deviance" (irrationalities).
"Chart" or "technical analysis" is less well studied despite its long history (Lo and Hasanhodzic 2010), its institutionalization (Preda 2009:148), and its ubiquitous use in some markets: traders in London's foreign exchange market (the major FX trading spot) use fundamental and chart analysis (Allen and Taylor 1990; Cheung, Chinn, and Marsh 1999), hold heterogeneous expectations, and consequently generate unpredictable movements in exchange rates (Frankel 1993). Chart analysis is not integrated into economic theory but rests on the assumption of repetitive price behavior that can be analyzed by focusing on trends in aggregate dynamics. This basic assumption finds expression in various "rules of thumb" provided, among others, by the Dow theory. On these grounds, chart analysis has developed as a heuristic for visualizing and observing the market as a phenomenon sui generis (Lo and Hasanhodzic 2009).13 Charting techniques commenced with "cross-section paper (almost any kind can serve), a daily newspaper which gives full and accurate reports on stock exchange dealings, [and] a sharp pencil" (Edwards and Magee [1949] 1966: 8); today they rely on sophisticated computer applications and algorithms (Lo, Mamaysky, and Wang 2000), using feeds of real-time price data. Technical analysis is often understood as "subjective" not least because of the variety of techniques: annual, monthly, daily, or minute charts may include moving averages for different time intervals; bars indicating highest, lowest, and closing prices; trend channels; trading volumes; trading signals; manual drawings of arrows; and so on.
"Technicians" work with these (moving) charts by visually identifying recurring patterns on their screens. They differentiate "primary" and "secondary trends" and identify "reversal" (e.g., "head-and-shoulders") and "continuation formations" as well as "resistance" and "support levels". The success of these practices is inconclusive: some economists liken chart analysis to astrology (e.g., Malkiel [1973] 2003), while others see some information content in pattern recognition (Lo, Mamaysky, and Wang 2000). At least as interesting is the question of what makes chart analysis so popular among practitioners. A possible analytic strategy could commence with the speculation that chart analysis' "visual mode of analysis is more conducive to human cognition" (Lo, Mamaysky, and Wang 2000:1,706).

ANALYSIS AS A PROFESSION

In the 1960s, reflections about "whether financial analysis is a profession" became an explicit concern of the US Financial Analysts Federation. A committee was founded and various position papers presented at Federation meetings, which were later published in the Financial Analysts Journal. A key concern was the assembling, codifying, teaching, testing, and certifying of a body of analyst knowledge (Knorr Cetina 2010: 4-5). Ketchum—a finance professor involved in developing the first analyst certification curriculum—states that knowledge builds the "keystone of a profession" (1967:35). The outcome of these reflections is a certified body of analyst knowledge: the CFA curriculum.15 Currently, CFA candidates are tested in a three-level exam procedure on subjects ranging from "Ethical and Professional Standards" (quantitative methods, economics, financial reporting and analysis, corporate finance), "Investment Tools" (equity, fixed income, derivatives, alternative investments), and "Asset Valuation," all the way to "Portfolio Management and Wealth Planning" (CFA 2008). The current curriculum reflects both the growing importance of the buy-side (portfolio and fund managers) and CFA's attempts to monopolize a globally accepted certification for finance professionals generally. Such attempts, however, still remain unsuccessful. Among the reasons are certainly resistance by established analysts without certification and the voluntary nature of such qualifications. While some business schools integrate CFA into their curricula and some organizations (such as the New York Stock Exchange) accept the CFA as a substitute for their own entry exams, there is only partial mandatory licensing in the financial services industry (Bauman 1988: 1,814).16
The main attack on attempts at knowledge codification, though, comes from outside of the profession, namely from financial economists. In 1933, Alfred Cowles had already published a paper, claiming that the recommendations of securities analysts could not generate any excess returns when compared to a portfolio reflecting the entire market. Burton Malkiel ([1973] 2003) and Ferraro and Stanley (2000) have, among others, continued this line of research, referring to the EMH as a theoretical explanation of ineffective expertise. Popular tests of analysts' forecasting abilities such as The Wall Street Journals "Dartboard Contests" or the Chicago Sun-Times' stock picking contest against the capuchin monkey Adam Monk, as well as huge losses among retail investors during financial crises, have further undermined trust in the knowledge foundation of finance professionals (Schmidt-Beck 2007:160). A further line of research does not focus on market efficiencies but rather on the overreactions (De Bondt and Thaler 1990) and underreactions (Abarbanell and Bernard 1992) of analysts to information such as companies' earnings announcements. Easterwood and Nutt (1999) synthesize these studies by arguing that analysts overreact to positive earnings announcements and underreact to negative figures. The primary underlying interest of this research strand is to integrate analysts into a behavioral picture of markets characterized by excessive volatility. Rao, Greve, and Davis (2001) add a neo-institutional interpretation of biases in recommen-dations by showing that because forecasting is uncertain and career paths depend on relative performance to other analysts, analysts imitate the judgments of their peers. However, the overall evidence on analysts' forecasting performances is inconclusive. Womack (1996) shows that, on average, following analyst recommendations can, for a limited period of time, generate positive returns. Barber et al. (2001) confirm Womack's results and find valuable information in analysts' consensus recommendations. A more immediate inquiry into analysts' knowledge does not focus on the value of aggregate analyst opinions but on possible differences between analyst competencies. Stickel (1992), Jacob, Lys, and Neale (1999), and Mikhail, Walther, and Willis (2004) show that there are persistent differences in analysts' stock picking and forecasting abilities. Stickel shows that high-ranking analysts—that is those selected for Institutional Investor's "All American Research Team"—on average issue more accurate earnings forecasts. Jacob, Lys, and Neale (1999: 80) argue that such differences in forecasting accuracy are "both situational (created by the demands and environment of the brokerage house) and dispositional (analysts' innate ability)." Some authors see these findings as evidence for the extended theory of market efficiency which considers information-seeking costs (Grossman and Stiglitz 1980). Another interpretation is that some forecasts are more accurate because they trigger the predicted price movements. But overall, the statistical value of analyst forecasts is inconclusive, at best.
The second intensively reflected concern of analysts is their legitimacy as a profession. On the one hand, analysts have quickly identified a potential source of legitimacy: the fostering of economic prosperity through the efficient allocation of capital by well-advised investors (Bauman 1988:1810; Preda 2009: ch, 6; Randell 1961:70). On the other hand, analysts have considered that legitimacy might be hampered by their lack of association with a "social good" (Hayes 1967: 29), their exclusive contact to "affluent individuals or corporations" (Hayes 1967: 29), and the negative public image of financial markets in general (Hayes 1967: 31). Moreover, William Norby, once President of the FAF, noted as early as 1968 that a threat to legitimacy was posed by "the potential conflict at the professional level between research and sales" (Norby 1968:12). The analyst associations have dealt with these legitimacy problems by designing "codes of ethics". The current code of the CFA involves rules on lawful conduct, independence, objectivity, prudence, care, diligence and suitability in analysts' research, and loyalty toward clients and employers, as well as disclosure of any conflicts of interest (CFA 2008). CFA candidates and members can be sanctioned if they violate these rules.
However, these codes as well as their organizational counterparts—so called "Chinese Walls" between organizational units with conflicting interests—have proven largely "ceremonial" and "loosely coupled" to practices (Fogarty and Rogers 2005: 339), as became evident during a specific historical period: in the 1990s, mergers enabled by deregulation had dissolved the separation between investment banks and brokerage houses. This situation radically changed the position of sell-side analysts; they were now supposed to "originate deals" and help in the lucrative business of underwriting (Swedberg 2005:189). This new role transformed analysts from back-office "statisticians" to full-fledged front-office workers whose status and salaries, in some cases, exceeded those of star traders (Ho 2009: 78). Status was increasingly constituted by analyst rankings such as Institutional Investor's "All American Research Team" or, in Europe, the "Extel Awards," and served as one of the key "assets" of investment banks in attracting corporate and institutional clients. However, this new situation also produced severe conflicts of interests: analysts issued reports on firms that were current or prospective clients of the corporate finance departments of their employers. Conflicts arose because "whereas corporate finance seeks to promote its clients' deals (issuance of debt and equity securities and M&A deals) through favorable ratings, analysts seek to rate corporate finance clients independently and objectively" (Hayward and Boeker 1998:2). Early on, economists and sociologists pointed out such conflicts, demonstrating that brokerage houses' recommendations were positively biased in cases when these houses functioned as the lead underwriters for the recommended companies' initial public offerings (Hayward and Boeker 1998; Michaely and Womack 1999). The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times also reported on conflicts of interests, including the fact that analysts' compensations indeed depended on their contributions to their employers' investment banking business.20 However, the actual processes within the organizations only became visible when Eliot Spitzer, then Attorney General of the State of New York, led an investigation against investment banks, scrutinizing thousands of e-mails and other internal documents. His investigations in two cases are particularly well documented, namely those concerned with the analysts Henry Blodget and Jack Grubman. Henry Blodget had become famous for his $400 call on Amazon.com in December 1998, a stock first trading at about $240 and then surpassing Blodget s call within a month (Beunza and Garud 2007). In 1999, Blodget had taken the place of Jonathan Cohen at Merrill Lynch, becoming the top-rated Internet analyst and one of the most mass-mediated financial figures of the dotcom era. During Spitzer's investigations, it became evident that Blodget had not always been convinced by his own bold buy recommendations on companies like "InfoSpace" and "GoTo.com", referring to such stocks in internal memos as a "piece of shit" or "piece of junk". The e-mails also explicitly revealed conflicts of interests.21 Spitzer's second famous case was Jack Grubman, another star analyst and "rainmaker" of the dotcom boom, who with a 20-million dollar average salary had become the highest-paid stock analyst (Cassidy 2003:12).22 But Spitzer's target was neither Blodget nor Grubman. In an interview after the investigations and the "Global Settlement" with the banks, the Attorney General stated that




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the problems were structural... Everybody had permitted analysts to become appendages of the investment-banking system. It didn't seem reasonable to drop the criminal axe on Merrill Lynch because of this. It did make sense to say to them, "You've got to change the way you do business in a pretty fundamental way." (Cassidy 2003: 9)23

Studies by financial economists have confirmed Spitzer's allegations (Barber, Lehavy, and Trueman 2007), showing for the period between 1996 and mid-2003 that investors following the buy recommendations of securities firms without investment banking arms had profited 3.1 basis points (almost 8 percent annualized) more than investors following the buy recommendations of investment banks. These differences, even more pronounced when banks were lead underwriters, largely stem from divergent returns during the bear market that began in March 2000. They confirm investment banking analysts' reluctance to downgrade stocks underwritten by their banks even as prospects worsened. Hong and Kubik (2003) relate conflicts of interests to analyst career paths. They show that, while forecasting accuracy matters most, analysts' careers are also boosted by a positive bias in their recommendations. The authors therefore conclude that conflicts of interests might be broader than the focus on investment banking relationships suggests. Indeed, they may well involve the general influence of sales interests on research, the dependence of analysts on companies for information (leading to an extreme buy bias (Fogarty and Rogers 2005), and the investment interests of the analysts themselves. Knorr Cetina suggests that the professional identity of analysts entails not only the "rationalization" of investments but also their "incentivization" (2011; see also Fogarty and Rogers 2005:351).

ANALYSTS, INVESTORS, AND FIRMS

Since the 1990s, political economists and institutional sociologists, among them Michael Useem (1996), Neil Fligstein (2001), and Gerald Davis (2009), have identified a structural transformation of the US economy toward financial markets, consisting (among other aspects) of an increased orientation of firms toward their valuations on the stock markets. Neil Fligstein posits that while the rise of large conglomerates from the mid-1960s onwards can be described as an emergent "finance conception of the firm," this institutional model gave way to a "shareholder value conception"24 in the 1980s. Firms' strategies to maximize shareholder value are: dediversification, that is, divestment in unproductive product lines; coupling of manager compensation to stock price performance; repurchase of company stocks; the rise of the chief financial officer (CFO); and active management of markets' earnings expectations (e.g., through investor relations departments). In contrast to economists' rationalization of shareholder value (Jensen and Meckling 1976), sociologists describe its institutionalization as the outcome of social movements. Zorn et al. (2005: 269) identify three strategic actors: institutional investors, financial analysts, and hostile takeover. In analogy, Rao and Sivakumar (1999) show the effects of investor rights campaigns (mostly led by institutional investors) and increases in analyst coverage on the establishment of investor relations departments.
One reason why analysts are important to this process is, according to Rao and Sivakumar (1999), because their metrics, frames, and stories substantiate the concept of shareholder value. Zuckerman (1999, 2000, 2004) goes further: he posits that shareholder value is institutionalized by observational relationships which position different actors as financial candidates, critics, and audiences (Zuckerman 1999). As audiences, investors draw on analysts (critics) to learn about socially legitimated valuations, providing the "consideration sets" for rational choices; candidates (firms) address analysts because the latter function as interaction partners in aligning with market expectations and as "surrogate investors" whose recommendations can move markets. Zuckerman tests his proposition by asking what would happen if firms did not comply with the critics hegemonic valuation categories. As analyst coverage is organized according to industry classifications, Zuckerman reasons that firms unable to attract the attention of analysts who specialize within "their" industries would face an "illegitimacy discount," measured as a firms excess value (according to sales and earnings) in relation to its share price. His results show that such a discount exists. In a subsequent article (2000), Zuckerman intervenes more directly in the shareholder value debate: he shows that, additional to variables such as economic performance and relatedness of firm divisions, an existing coverage mismatch between a firm and the analyst review network puts pressure on a firm to dediversify:
Diversified firms contradict the dominant logic of valuation, which classifies firms by industry, and the division of labor among analysts, which rests on that categorization. As a result, such a corporation faces pressure to align its corporate identity with one that more readily fits its position in the analyst-review network. It is through such pressure by analysts to match the stock market's industry-based product categories that investors exert control over the corporation. (Zuckerman 2000: 613)
Zuckermans work, completed by an article on the effects of analyst "coverage incoherence" on the volatility and trading volume of a stock (2004), provides the argument that market "efficiency," as theorized by Eugene Fama, is in fact conditional upon an institutional fit between a firm's identity and hegemonic financial categories.

CONCLUDING REMARKS

Despite the discussed contributions to histories, practices, professionalization, and financial market capitalism, the sociology of analysts, much like the sociology of finance, has hardly exhausted its potential.
Generally speaking, there is evidence of the growing relevance of continued work in this area: the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) (2009) projects that by 2018 the number of financial analysts will have increased by 20 percent to 300,000 in the US alone, and it concludes that the primary factors driving an expansion of financial expert work are increasing complexity,
global diversification of investments, and
growth in the overall amount of assets under management.


More specifically, I see the following empirical and theoretical shortcomings:

first, we need to go beyond general concepts of "framing" and "classification" in substantializing analysts' knowledge practices. For instance, more in-depth studies are needed which explore analysis as a market expert practice, considering the affectivity and reflexivity of markets as well as the temporal and "proxy" character of the ground data. Unexplored sites of analyst work are rating agencies, hedge funds, or online retail brokerages; within these different contexts, how are analysts involved in evaluations (MacKenzie 2011), valuations, and the development of investment strategies (e.g., trading algorithms)?

Second, while "professionalism" and "status hierarchy" appear to be relevant concepts for theorizing analysts' internal organization as well as their relations to clients, these concepts to date merely serve as heuristics. For instance, the sociology of professions and experts has not been systematically related to the study of analysts.

Third, our knowledge of analysts as agents of financialization is poor. Existing relevant studies define a point of departure but do not account for changes, sustained ambiguities, and practical instances of establishing hegemonic value categories.


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