Simultaneous buying and selling makes the economy extremely efficient. But in our overconnected world, it may also force us into a race to the bottom.
If you want to succeed in an Internet-driven, overconnected world, you must arbitrage.
If you don't, you will become prey to those who do. But in an Internet-driven,
overconnected world, arbitrage may also force us into a race to the bottom.
makes the economy extremely efficient. In the commodity world, arbitrage can be
a miraculous transaction, yielding an infinite rate of return. The arbitrager
buys a commodity in one market and sells it instantly at a higher price in
another. In a perfect arbitrage, the arbitrager collects the money from the
sale before paying for the original purchase. For example, sell a bushel of
wheat for $7.00 and collect the money instantly; buy the bushel in another
market for $6.75 and pay later.
Of course, perfect arbitrage seldom exists. Speculators quickly root out opportunities,
and prices converge. The sale price, for example, drops to $6.85 and the
purchase price rises to $6.84. Of course, the sale price could drop below the
purchase price to, say, $6.75, and the arbitrager would lose 9 cents on every sale.
In the past, the term "arbitrage" was used in conjunction with financial and
commodity transactions, but now it is used more broadly. For instance, people
talk about arbitraging labor costs, referring to using cheap labor in a distant
location to substitute for more expensive local labor.
Successful arbitrage depends on strong and efficient connections. You have to be able to move products from where you buy them to where you sell them. Transaction costs
and other logistics must be kept to a minimum. And in order to find the best
arbitrage opportunities, you have to have good information about markets.
This is where the Internet comes in. Not only does it reduce the cost of
finding opportunities, but it greatly increases the efficiency of doing so. As
a result, the universe of arbitrage opportunities has expanded. Name something
that can be bought or sold, and there may a way to arbitrage it: stocks, bonds,
commodities, precious metals, labor costs, taxes, regulatory environments,
credit card debt, retail shopping experiences.
In 2004, commenting on slow job growth in the U.S., Stephen Roach of Morgan Stanley cited "global labor arbitrage" as the main
reason growth had slowed. Roach predicted that global labor arbitrage was
likely to be an enduring feature of the economy. Our experiences over the past
seven years have certainly proven him right.
Most people might think Roach was referring to factory workers and customer
support workers in India who answer calls in heavily accented English. But
because of the power of the Internet, information-intensive jobs of almost any
type are subject to labor arbitrage. Teleradiology Solutions, a company located in Bangalore, reads X-rays for patients in the U.S. and Singapore. Jobs we thought
were safe are safe no longer. More and more companies are employing engineers
and programmers in India, Russia, and the Balkans. Businesses must either
arbitrage and succumb to the unrelenting pressure to cut costs or face the
prospect of becoming uncompetitive.
Non-traditional arbitrage lurks in some surprising places. Consider retailing. Physical retailers add value by providing a retail experience. Some people enjoy shopping. One of the most important services retailers provide is the opportunity to experience the merchandise. Test drive a Ferrari. Try on a pair of jeans. Then go to an online retailer and arbitrage out the added value and the local taxes as well. Many of us do this without giving it a second thought. We find what we want at the shopping center and then rush home to buy it on Amazon. If we're shameless, we do our online shopping on our smart phone a few seconds after leaving the store.
In financial markets, arbitrage has run rampant. Transaction costs facilitated by
the Internet have plummeted. It has become possible to collect massive amounts
of information inexpensively. As computation power has increased and data sets
have grown, computers can now uncover more and more arbitrage opportunities.
traders use computers to scan the market to scout out the tiniest mispricings. If
a computer can discover an index made up of a few hundred stocks that is priced
too high, traders sell the index short and buy the stocks, making pennies per
share on billions of shares--pennies that add up to hundreds of millions in
profits. Is it any wonder that high-frequency trading now accounts for nearly two
thirds of the trading volume?
arbitrage adventures aren't just for the big guys. I was amazed to learn about
credit card arbitrage. Get a low-interest introductory loan for signing up for
a new credit card, invest that money in a high-interest account, and pray.
The Internet makes it easier to get around financial regulations and circumvent jurisdictions. If regulators in the UK or USA get too tough, the Internet can help: when data flows so efficiently, it's a lot easier to move the regulated entity from London or Wall Street to a more understanding jurisdiction.
If I can arbitrage a growing number of financial transactions, both low-skilled
and high-skilled jobs, and then throw in retailing, what's left? A lot, as it
turns out. Ask people in Hollywood about movies and recordings. Talk to the
newspapers. As bandwidth increases, opportunities to arbitrage will continue to
grow as well. Maybe the only things that will be safe are meals in restaurants
and trips to the hair salon.
Arbitrage is an economist's dream. It squeezes out inefficiency. It creates an intensely price-competitive world. Consumers benefit big time, because they have access to high quality goods at low prices.
But arbitrage has its downside as well. I used to love to travel. I even looked
forward to the flight. I could sit in peace and quiet and catch up on my
reading. Today I can fly for less money, but I also fly less. The qualitative
experience is so poor that it has reduced my interest in traveling.
Price is one of the most powerful motivators known to humankind. Nobody wants to pay
more. When the focus is exclusively on price, qualitative aspects often suffer,
and in many situations that is too high a price to pay. If only arbitragers could find a way to squeeze out
costs while maintaining quality. Now that
would be the perfect arbitrage.="http:>
In the United States, when an unmarried man has a baby, his partner can give it up without his consent—unless he happens to know about an obscure system called the responsible father registry.
Christopher Emanuel first met his girlfriend in the fall of 2012, when they were both driving forklifts at a warehouse in Trenton, South Carolina. She was one of a handful of women on the job; she was white and he was black. She ignored him at first, and Emanuel saw it as a challenge. It took multiple attempts to get her phone number. He says he “wasn’t lonely, but everybody wants somebody. Nothing wrong with being friends.”
Emanuel, who is now 25, describes himself as a non-discriminatory flirt. He was popular in high school and a state track champion. According to the Aiken High School 2008 yearbook, he was voted “Most Attractive” and “Best Dressed.” Even his former English teacher Francesca Pataro describes him as a “ray of sunshine.” Emanuel says he’s “talked”—euphemistically speaking—with a lot of women: “Black, Puerto Rican, Egyptian, and Vietnamese.” But before he met this girlfriend, he says, he had never seriously dated a white girl.
“Here is what I would like for you to know: In America, it is traditional to destroy the black body—it is heritage.”
Last Sunday the host of a popular news show asked me what it meant to lose my body. The host was broadcasting from Washington, D.C., and I was seated in a remote studio on the Far West Side of Manhattan. A satellite closed the miles between us, but no machinery could close the gap between her world and the world for which I had been summoned to speak. When the host asked me about my body, her face faded from the screen, and was replaced by a scroll of words, written by me earlier that week.
As the Vermont senator gains momentum, Claire McCaskill rushes to the frontrunner’s defense.
Obscured by the recent avalanche of momentous news is this intriguing development from the campaign trail: The Hillary Clinton campaign now considers Bernie Sanders threatening enough to attack. Fresh off news that Sanders is now virtually tied with Hillary in New Hampshire, Claire McCaskill went on Morning Joe on June 25 to declare that “the media is giving Bernie a pass … they’re not giving the same scrutiny to Bernie that they’re certainly giving to Hillary.”
The irony here is thick. In 2006, McCaskill said on Meet the Press that while Bill Clinton was a great president, “I don’t want my daughter near him.” Upon hearing the news, according to John Heilemann and Mark Halperin’s book Game Change, Hillary exclaimed, “Fuck her,” and cancelled a fundraiser for the Missouri senator. McCaskill later apologized to Bill Clinton, and was wooed intensely by Hillary during the 2008 primaries. But she infuriated the Clintons again by endorsing Barack Obama. In their book HRC, Aimee Parnes and Jonathan Allen write that, “‘Hate’ is too weak a word to describe the feelings that Hillary’s core loyalists still have for McCaskill.”
Most adults can’t remember much of what happened to them before age 3 or so. What happens to the memories formed in those earliest years?
My first memory is of the day my brother was born: November 14, 1991. I can remember my father driving my grandparents and me over to the hospital in Highland Park, Illinois, that night to see my newborn brother. I can remember being taken to my mother’s hospital room, and going to gaze upon my only sibling in his bedside cot. But mostly, I remember what was on the television. It was the final two minutes of a Thomas the Tank Engine episode. I can even remember the precise story: “Percy Takes the Plunge,” which feels appropriate, given that I too was about to recklessly throw myself into the adventure of being a big brother.
In sentimental moments, I’m tempted to say my brother’s birth is my first memory because it was the first thing in my life worth remembering. There could be a sliver of truth to that: Research into the formation and retention of our earliest memories suggests that people’s memories often begin with significant personal events, and the birth of a sibling is a textbook example. But it was also good timing. Most people’s first memories date to when they were about 3.5 years old, and that was my age, almost to the day, when my brother was born.
The banking industry needs more than regulation. It needs a new culture.
The call came from another trader near midnight one night in ‘95. I assumed it was about a crisis in the financial markets, something bad happening in Asia. No, it was about a strip club. “Dude, turn on the TV news. Giuliani is raiding the Harmony Theater.”
The Harmony Theater was a two-level dive club in lower Manhattan, popular among Wall Streeters because it bent rules. It was a place where almost anything, including drugs and sex, could be bought in the open.
When I turned on the TV I saw a swarm of close to a hundred police, many in riot gear, escorting handcuffed strippers and sad-looking clients into waiting police vans. No traders, or at least none that my friends or I knew, were arrested that night.
New data shows that students whose parents make less money pursue more “useful” subjects, such as math or physics.
In 1780, John Adams wrote a letter to his wife, Abigail, in which he laid out his plans for what his children and grandchildren would devote their lives to. Having himself taken the time to master “Politicks and War,” two revolutionary necessities, Adams hoped his children would go into disciplines that promoted nation-building, such as “mathematicks,” “navigation,” and “commerce.” His plan was that in turn, those practical subjects would give his children’s children room “to study painting, poetry, musick, architecture, statuary, tapestry, and porcelaine.”
Two-hundred and thirty-five years later, this progression—“from warriors to dilettantes,” in the words of the literary scholar Geoffrey Galt Harpham—plays out much as Adams hoped it would: Once financial concerns have been covered by their parents, children have more latitude to study less pragmatic things in school. Kim Weeden, a sociologist at Cornell, looked at National Center for Education Statistics data for me after I asked her about this phenomenon, and her analysis revealed that, yes, the amount of money a college student’s parents make does correlate with what that person studies. Kids from lower-income families tend toward “useful” majors, such as computer science, math, and physics. Those whose parents make more money flock to history, English, and performing arts.
In 1992, the neuroscientist Richard Davidson got a challenge from the Dalai Lama. By that point, he’d spent his career asking why people respond to, in his words, “life’s slings and arrows” in different ways. Why are some people more resilient than others in the face of tragedy? And is resilience something you can gain through practice?
The Dalai Lama had a different question for Davidson when he visited the Tibetan Buddhist spiritual leader at his residence in Dharamsala, India. “He said: ‘You’ve been using the tools of modern neuroscience to study depression, and anxiety, and fear. Why can’t you use those same tools to study kindness and compassion?’ … I did not have a very good answer. I said it was hard.”
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
Too many debates about important issues degenerate into manufactured and misplaced outrage—and it's chilling free speech.
There once was a remote village deep in the rainforest that had no contact with the outside world. And in this small village there were only three village elders who had the ability to speak. So they were in charge. And they’d have arguments. One would say, “I support a woman’s right to choose.” Another would say, “I oppose a woman’s right to choose.” And then the third would say, “A real debate here on a woman’s right to choose. When we come back, Justin Bieber arrested!”
Now if you were one of the many villagers who didn’t have a way to speak, you just hoped that one of the three elders who could speak would make the argument you wanted to make. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn’t. And it was okay, but it bothered you that these three voices didn’t really speak for everybody. They were, after all, pretty rich and all one color. (Green. These were green people.) And they didn’t really understand what it was like to be aqua or purple or gay or poor like you were. You’re a gay poor purple person. They tried to cover the whole world, but generally they focused on what was on the minds of green people from the big cities who watched Mad Men and went to Middlebury.