Bonuses are getting a bad rap, but they're an important and useful part of the financial services industry

Greed Is Good, by Roy C Smith
Wall Street bonuses are getting a bad rap, but they're an important and useful part of the financial services industry. Taking them away could hamper the economic comeback.
WSJ, Feb 07, 2009

Wall Street bonuses are getting a bad rap, but they're an important and useful part of the financial services industry. Taking them away could hamper the economic comeback.
1973 was a terrible year on Wall Street. An unexpected crisis in the Middle East led to a quadrupling of oil prices and a serious global economic recession. The president was in serious trouble with Watergate. The S&P 500 index dropped 50% (after 23 years of rising markets), and much of Wall Street fell deeply into the red. There were no profits, and therefore no bonuses.

I was a 35-year-old, nonpartner investment banker then and was horrified to learn that my annual take-home pay would be limited to my small salary, which accounted for about a quarter of my previous year's income. Fortunately the partners decided to pay a small bonus out of their capital that year to help employees like me get by. The next year was no better. Several colleagues with good prospects left the firm and the industry for good. We learned that strong pay-for-performance compensation incentives could cut both ways.

Many wondered if that was still the case last week, when New York State Comptroller Thomas DiNapoli released an estimate that the "securities industry" paid its New York City employees bonuses of $18 billion in 2008, leading to a public outcry. Lost in the denunciations were the powerful benefits of the bonus system, which helped make the U.S. the global leader in financial services for decades. Bonuses are an important and necessary part of the fast-moving, high-pressure industry, and its employees flourish with strong performance incentives.

There is also a fundamental misunderstanding of how bonuses are paid that is further inflaming public opinion. The system has become more complex than most people know, and involves forms of bonuses that are not entirely discretionary.

The anger at Wall Street only grew at the news that Merrill Lynch, after reporting $15 billion of losses, had rushed to pay $4 billion in bonuses on the eve of its merger with Bank of America. Because Merrill Lynch and Bank of America were receiving substantial government funds to keep them afloat, the subject became part of the public business. The idea that the banks had paid out taxpayers' funds in undeserved bonuses to employees, together with a leaked report of John Thain's spending $1 million to redecorate his office, understandably provoked a blast of public outrage against Wall Street. The issue was so hot that President Barack Obama interrupted his duties to call the bonuses "shameful" and the "height of irresponsibility." Then, on Wednesday, he announced a new set of rules for those seeking "exceptional" assistance from the Troubled Asset Relief Program in the future that would limit cash compensation to $500,000 and restrict severance pay and frills, perks and boondoggles.

In the excitement some of the facts got mixed up. Mr. DiNapoli's estimate included many firms that were not involved with the bailout, and only a few that were. Merrill's actions were approved by its board early in December and consented to by Bank of America. But the basic point is that, despite the dreadful year that Wall Street experienced in 2008, some questionable bonuses were paid to already well-off employees, and that set off the outrage.

Many Americans believe that any bonuses for top executives paid by rescued banks would constitute "excess compensation," a phrase used by Mr. Obama. But no Wall Street CEO taking federal money received a bonus in 2008, and the same was true for most of their senior colleagues. Not only did those responsible receive no bonuses, the value of the stock in their companies paid to them as part of prior-year bonuses dropped by 70% or more, leaving them, collectively, with billions of dollars of unrealized losses.

That's pay for performance, isn't it?

"Wall Street" has always been the quintessential, if ill-defined, symbol of American capitalism. In reality, Wall Street today includes many large banks, investment groups and other institutions, some not even located in the U.S. It has become a euphemism for the global capital markets industry -- one in which the combined market value of all stocks and bonds outstanding in the world topped $140 trillion at the end of 2007. Well less than half of the value of this combined market value is represented by American securities, but American banks lead the world in its origination and distribution. Wall Street is one of America's great export industries.

The market thrives on locating new opportunities, providing innovation and a willingness to take risks. It is also, regrettably, subject to what the economist John Maynard Keynes called "animal spirits," the psychological factors that make markets irrational when going up or down. For example, America has enjoyed a bonus it didn't deserve in its free-wheeling participation in the housing market, before it became a bubble. Despite great efforts by regulators to manage systemic risk, there have been market failures. The causes of the current market failure, which is the real object of the public anger, go well beyond the Wall Street compensation system -- but compensation has been one of them.

The capital-markets industry operates in a very sophisticated and competitive environment, one that responds best to strong performance incentives. People who flourish in this environment are those who want to be paid and advanced based on their individual and their team's performance, and are willing to take the risk that they might be displaced by someone better or that mistakes or downturns may cause them to be laid off or their firms to fail. Indeed, since 1970, 28 major banks or investment banks have failed or been taken up into mergers, and thousands have come and gone into the industry without making much money. Those that have survived the changing fortunes of the industry have done very well -- so well, in fact, that they appear to have become symbolic of greedy and reckless behavior.

The Wall Street compensation system has evolved from the 1970s, when most of the firms were private partnerships, owned by partners who paid out a designated share of the firm's profits to nonpartner employees while dividing up the rest for themselves. The nonpartners had to earn their keep every year, but the partners' percentage ownerships in the firms were also reset every year or two. On the whole, everyone's performance was continuously evaluated and rewarded or penalized. The system provided great incentives to create profits, but also, because the partners' own money was involved, to avoid great risk.

The industry became much more competitive when commercial banks were allowed into it. The competition tended to commoditize the basic fee businesses, and drove firms more deeply into trading. As improving technologies created great arrays of new instruments to be traded, the partnerships went public to gain access to larger funding sources, and to spread out the risks of the business. As they did so, each firm tried to maintain its partnership "culture" and compensation system as best it could, but it was difficult to do so.

In time there was significant erosion of the simple principles of the partnership days. Compensation for top managers followed the trend into excess set by other public companies. Competition for talent made recruitment and retention more difficult and thus tilted negotiating power further in favor of stars. Henry Paulson, when he was CEO of Goldman Sachs, once remarked that Wall Street was like other businesses, where 80% of the profits were provided by 20% of the people, but the 20% changed a lot from year to year and market to market. You had to pay everyone well because you never knew what next year would bring, and because there was always someone trying to poach your best trained people, whom you didn't want to lose even if they were not superstars. Consequently, bonuses in general became more automatic and less tied to superior performance. Compensation became the industry's largest expense, accounting for about 50% of net revenues. Warren Buffett, when he was an investor in Salomon Brothers in the late 1980s, once noted that he wasn't sure why anyone wanted to be an investor in a business where management took out half the revenues before shareholders got anything. But he recently invested $5 billion in Goldman Sachs, so he must have gotten over the problem.

As firms became part of large, conglomerate financial institutions, the sense of being a part of a special cohort of similarly acculturated colleagues was lost, and the performance of shares and options in giant multi-line holding companies rarely correlated with an individual's idea of his own performance over time. Nevertheless, the system as a whole worked reasonably well for years in providing rewards for success and penalties for failures, and still works even in difficult markets such as this one.

At junior levels, bonuses tend to be based on how well the individual is seen to be developing. As employees progress, their compensation is based less on individual performance and more on their role as a manager or team leader. For all professional employees the annual bonus represents a very large amount of the person's take-home pay. At the middle levels, bonuses are set after firm-wide, interdepartmental negotiation sessions that attempt to allocate the firm's compensation pool based on a combination of performance and potential.

Roy C. Smith, a professor of finance at New York University's Stern School of Business, is a former partner of Goldman Sachs.