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Weekend reading: Reaping and sowing

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Political rant time. Feel free to skip and go straight to the money and investing links below.

One of oldest tropes in storytelling – right next to the posh British actor being the villain – is that chickens come home to roost.

There’s that same sense of reckoning in our national drama this weekend. There’s even a posh British actor ruining running the country.

Nearly six years after Johnson won his Pyrrhic Brexit victory, we’ve still almost nothing to show for it except a slower economy, a lorry car park in the South East, and the Pythonesque return of crown stamps on pint glasses.

True, the pandemic makes it’s hard to gauge how much weaker trade is down to our lousy new economic reality (lousy unless you deal in paperwork, red tape, or customs booths).

But it’s not looking good:

Source: Politico

Europe, you’ll remember, was also hit by Covid. It’s shrugged off Brexit.

Meanwhile Northern Ireland teeters, thanks to the consequences of Johnson ditching Theresa May’s deal for political points then whining about it later.

There’s no sign of £350m a week for the NHS either. Shocking.

Indeed National Insurance will be hiked from April to help plug a shortfall in health and social care funding.

Regret

NHS funding would have been stretched even if we hadn’t decided in 2016 to commit the most bizarre act of self-harm in Europe since that poor bloke went on a date where he asked if could be fried in garlic and eaten.

But we did, and that’s made the post-Covid reckoning even worse.

Beside the human toll, Covid has cost the economy untold billions. Much money was well spent, plenty not. But aside from the direct medical costs, shutting down the economy and keeping millions on furlough was always going to leave an immense bill. While we can certainly debate when we should start repaying it, nobody should be surprised it’s in the post.

The bill won’t be covered by any oxymoronic Brexit dividend. As the Financial Times opined this week:

Although unemployment is low, evidence of a labour force problem is mounting, with 1mn fewer people either working or seeking work than we would have expected had the pandemic not occurred. That is roughly a 3% hit to the available labour supply.

As spending has increased, this has stoked inflation far more than almost anyone expected. It means the scope for catch-up growth is running out, now that unemployment is back at pre-pandemic levels.

Worse, the UK growth rate is also artificially boosted by £25bn of corporate tax incentives this year and next, but investment remains weak. In the third quarter of 2021, it was still 4% below pre-pandemic levels, lower than any other economy in the G7. UK exports have also not joined in the global boom.

All this suggests that businesses are looking relatively unfavourably on this country, even before corporation tax rates rise from 19% to 25% in 2023. The IMF also reports good growth now will soon be followed by a slide to near stagnation in the pre-election year. It reckons the UK economy will end 2023 only 0.5% larger than at the start, the lowest in the G7.

What’s that? What about leveling up?

Besides the whiff of pork belly politics, the Welsh government for one has already run the numbers and concluded Wales will be £900m worse off compared to what was lost in funding from the EU.

Again, nobody should be surprised. Smaller pie. Smaller slices.

This is the UK economy in 2022.

Blue Monday

Beset by near-anarchy, when quizzed Johnson obfuscates over all this to tout the UK’s vaccination record like a broken droid stuck on repeat.

I’m glad that an adult was put in charge of the vaccine program, that the NHS and volunteers delivered, and that Britons mostly got their jabs.

But a rich country securing and deploying the Covid vaccine is table stakes at this point. We were quick out of the gate, but that was a year ago.

Figures show Germany and Spain are now more fully vaccinated than us, for instance. Those countries suffered fewer deaths per capita too, for what it’s worth.1

But perhaps the success of the rollout does seem singularly incredible if you were partying throughout much of 2020, in the same way a stoned student might be pleased they can still recite their own name to an officer when pulled over for drink driving.

Bizarre Love Triangle

As if friction-full trade, higher taxes on a weaker-than-otherwise base, and our leaders being under a police investigation wasn’t enough, household energy bills are also rising.

This one we can’t lay at Downing Street’s door. Wholesale prices have soared globally. That’s the main driver here.

However the spectacle of MPs cheering the suspension of planned fuel duty rises for ten Budgets in a row does fit with the Day of Reckoning theme.

The fuel duty escalator was introduced as a (token) measure to help wean us off fossil fuels. Yet even this small gesture was too much.

Now here we are decades into scientific consensus that curbing carbon emissions is vital – stat – to prevent catastrophe, and we’re still at the mercy of what autocratic regimes will dig up and sell us to burn.

The pandemic did precipitate this immediate crisis. Energy demand plunged in early 2020. Oil was briefly worthless. As the global economy has spluttered back to life, supply chains have been pulled all over the place.

Also yes, it doesn’t help that at the margin Western energy companies have been deterred from developing new resources by ESG factors (though the oil price touching $0 a barrel in 2020 must have entered their calculations.)

But here’s the thing – those ESG concerns are warranted. Global heating from fossil fuels continues apace (if you don’t believe that you’re irrational) and we must transition to another path, yesterday.

Politicians and voters alike are complicit in not biting the bullet and investing hugely in renewables – and probably nuclear – decades ago.

Instead, the government slashed green incentives in 2016 and MPs wave their ballot papers every Budget as fuel duty rises are put off again.

Why aren’t all our homes insulated? Why isn’t our coast festooned with offshore wind farms? How did my friend just fly to London from Spain for £9? Why aren’t solar panels on your roof a no-brainer? Why don’t we have several new nuclear power stations? Why are SUVs even a thing?

I guess we had bigger issues to worry about. Like blue passports.

World in Motion

Finally there’s the tension with Russia over Ukraine. In my opinion (worth taking with even more salt than usual here) Putin’s posture is enabled by Europe’s need for Russian gas, at this time of elevated energy prices.

In addition – and again reaping what you sow – years of divisive US foreign policy as absurdist theater under Trump must have emboldened the Russian hawks. The UK has been an international laughing stock since 2016 obviously, but with Angela Merkel off the stage Europe also looks suddenly lightweight. And the Americans are only just re-finding their feet.

NATO seems to be holding together, but 30 years on from The End of History should it really be touch and go?

Again, imagine if we’d spent the past five years on things that mattered instead of a grand delusion. Climate change, the real causes of growing disparity in economic outcomes in the UK, cancer, world peace – maybe even the threat of a new pandemic that Bill Gates was talking about in 2015.

Instead we voted to injure our economy indefinitely2 and only afterwards argued about how to do the deed, for years on end, on the nightly news.

To make it happen we elected the worst Prime Minister in living memory – a man who has fully lived down to his reputation.

Well played Britain. Well played. What a waste of time and effort.

Vanishing Point

So we’re a country where millions can’t afford their fuel bills even as the planet broils, presided over by people who broke their own lockdown rules as even the Queen mourned alone, belatedly attracting police attention.

All with Union Jacks cast about like confetti at a shotgun wedding.

If this doesn’t look a bit ominous, read more history.

I don’t see this as a party political issue. To the dismay of my friends, I have occasionally voted Conservative in the past and I imagine I could again.

But key figures in this government lied to win the Referendum, and have kept the fantasy going since. Johnson is no fool, but his biggest strength is unfortunately his weapons-grade charisma. Less winning personalities might have had occasion to reflect on the consequences of their actions, and even learn a thing or two.

Well, maybe he’s never had to, but we can.

This is not fine. Technology has screwed politics everywhere – it’s hardly just a British thing – but we can only sort out our own house.

Something must change before our will is exhausted and we give up caring.

Have a nice weekend.

[continue reading…]

  1. I continue to believe we can’t be conclusive about deaths per capita until the pandemic is over and all the data is in and normalized. []
  2. Reminder: I never thought Brexit would be a nuclear bomb for the UK economy. It’s more like a dead-weight that we’ll have to carry for decades, hampering trade and investment, and reducing GDP by perhaps 0.25% in a bad year. And that will seriously add up. []
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Will your spending decline in retirement?

A big but oft-overlooked question for aspiring retirees is: “Will my spending decline in retirement?” If the answer is yes, then you could retire sooner than you think, or you could spend more money in the early years after your own freedom day.

As it happens, there’s a large stack of research that suggests people really do see their spending decline in retirement. At least on average.

And if this turns out to be you, then the amount you need to retire should be less daunting than previously advertised. You can even afford to decrease your ‘how much should I put in my pension’ target figure.

That’s because sustainable withdrawal rate (SWR) strategies allow for constant inflation-adjusted spending in retirement.

They assume you want to maintain your purchasing power for the remainder of your days. That sounds reasonable.

But the evidence suggests the majority of retirees actually keep saving as their spending needs fall. The net effect is they beat inflation and do better financially than predicted by overly-cautious retirement planners.

A retirement spending decline graph vs constant inflation-adjusted spending and a U shaped consumption curve

So what’s the evidence for the spending decline in retirement?

That’s a 64 million dollar question. (Okay, more like £6.40 in my case).

UK evidence that spending declines in retirement

I’m going to focus on a UK research paper called Understanding retirement journeys: expectations vs reality.

It was authored by Cesira Urzi Brancati, Brian Beach, Ben Franklin, and Matthew Jones for the International Longevity Centre UK (ILCUK).

The ILCUK is a think tank concerned with the social impact of an aging population. 

This paper is based on longitudinal data of households in the UK and England. Brancati and co find the majority of these households experience a real decline in retirement spending:

Our findings suggest that typical consumption in retirement does not follow a U-shaped path – consumption does not dramatically rise at the start of retirement or pick up towards the end of life to meet long-term care-related expenditures.

[…] the inescapable truth is that, regardless of the period analysed, lifestyle or income level, older people in the UK spend less than their younger counterparts, with discretionary spending on life’s luxuries all but disappearing from age 75 and almost all cohorts progressively saving more of their income as they become older.

The findings apply on average to broad populations. Please bear this in mind from here. That way I won’t need to clog up every sentence with words like ‘average’ and ‘typically’.

Also, I don’t want to ruin your day by making you read methodology spoilers. A full discussion on data sources and research parameters is available in each linked paper.

The retiree spending decline headlines

The paper paints a vivid picture of decline:

  • Eighty-something year-old households spend an average 43% less than fifty-something households.
  • Spending on holidays, eating out, and recreation declines along with other non-essentials.
  • Essential items such as food, health, and housing eat up more of the budget.
  • Savings increase as the drop in discretionary spending dominates stable non-discretionary outlays.

The research also analyses behavioural surveys. This helps to connect the dots revealed by the expenditure data:

• Time at home alone increases by age, while time spent with family and friends falls. By age 90+, watching television and spending time at home alone are the most common daily activities.

• The age group 70-74 appears to be a tipping point. From this age, the average amount of time spent at home alone increases markedly, while the time spent with family and/or friends falls.

We’ll explore the obvious and not-so-obvious reasons why this is so, shortly. 

An immediate question is: does the fall in non-essential spending apply mainly to the affluent? 

This graph shows that the retirement spending decline affects low-earners and top-earners alike:

Bottom-earners (blue line) spend proportionally more than their income past age 65, but then their savings rate accelerates. 

Top-earners (red line) always have the capacity to save. But again, their spending arc bends increasingly downwards. 

Brancati notes:

This pattern is common to both high and low income groups, is robust to the inclusion of factors other than age, and is not simply the result of the time period in which the data was collected. Subsequently, households make substantial savings in later life.

Choose your retirement tribe

Obviously there isn’t a generic lump of retirees that all behave alike. But Brancati identifies five sub-groups, and all see the same pattern:

Find out who these people are on pages 29 to 33 of Brancati’s paper.

In short:

Transport Lovers and Extravagant Couples are described as high income. Both spend freely on non-essentials. Extravagant Couples even go into hock during their early retirement. 

Prudent Families have ‘relatively high income’ but are predisposed to save. 

Frugal Foodies are low income, spend little on non-essentials, and are diligent about saving. I estimate their annual household income to be around £19,000 at today’s prices (based on the report’s 2013 numbers). 

Just Getting By are also low income and are unlikely to own their own home or investments. They’re disproportionately affected by rising rent and energy prices. They start to save from age 75 nonetheless.

What happens to retirees?

The go-to rationale is that fading health cages older retirees. However that’s only part of the answer. 

And the notion of people cutting back because of dwindling financial resources is confounded by this graph:

A majority feel more secure about their finances as they age, not less.

That’s the good news part of the story. 

Meanwhile, spending on essentials (food, housing, clothing, and health) remains relatively stable:

The exception that proves the rule is transport. People spend less on this when they leave the workforce and stop commuting. Recreational travel wanes, too. 

Notice how gently the health line (in blue-grey) rises at the end. As if wafted by an ill-wind…

In contrast, non-essential spending goes into steep decline long before that – from 65:  

Spending on eating out, hotel stays, and even alcohol take a 50% or greater hit from their peaks.

What about the Lamborghini factor?

Brancati says there’s not much evidence for a post-retirement day blowout:

A closer look at the different categories of non-essential spending reveals that people spend a relatively similar amount of money on recreational goods and services between the age of 50 and 65, and only then do they start spending progressively less.

This seems to contradict the stereotypical image of retirees splurging in the immediate post-retirement phase of life, going on cruises and spending all their hard-earned cash on fun activities.

I do know retirees who’ve gone splurging. I have to remind myself to focus on the overall trend and not my own anecdotal evidence. 

Particularly troubling though is the dipping purple recreational curve from age 65 on.

That slump is a warning that the ‘active’ years of retirement may be short.

This graph plots that story, and it bothers me the most:

The steepening curves reveal that age 70-74 tipping point I quoted earlier.

Spending time home alone climbs relentlessly. Brancati puts it in stark terms:

Time at home alone rises from 3.5 hours a day for those aged 70-74 to more than nine hours a day by age 90+. 

Conversely, time with family or friends falls. I guess that’s partly because funerals become all-too frequent. 

Also notice the big drop in walking and other exercise. 

In contrast, time spent on ominous-sounding ‘health-related activities’ marches upwards. This is an ill-defined category, but Brancati says it likely involves visits to the doctor and other medical facilities.

Why then, does the line subside from age 85 to 89?

The decline after this age group may simply relate to longevity factors, i.e. healthier people or those with fewer health issues are the ones who survive to this age.

Explaining the retirement spending decline

Wondering whatever happened to the likely lads (and lasses) to keep them home alone? Here’s the money shot:

From age 50 to 64, the number of people who often or sometimes agree that their health stops them doing what they want hovers in and around 30%. 

By 70 to 74 that proportion rises to over half. 

And for the over-Nineties, 84.5% of them agree their health limits their lifestyle often or sometimes. 

But health isn’t the only reason that time spent at home increases. 

Other factors with explanatory power include losing your partner (and not being partnered at all), being male, being part of a small household, and not being a carer for someone. 

Inevitably, our advancing infirmity changes us. In Brancati’s words:

The anticipation of ill health and disability may also increase the desire to save in order to help meet potential health and long-term care costs in later life.

She also believes a desire to leave an inheritance contributes to waning spending. 

Some other studies conclude the decline is mainly explained by falling work-related expenses, the substitution of time for spending, and involuntary early retirement. 

Forced retirement is largely due to health shocks. It especially affects low income groups.

Finally, there’s an interesting snippet in a US piece that claims retirees cannily neglect home maintenance later in life. Such slapdashery enables retirees to pile up savings to offset their uncertainty over life expectancy and future income.

But will my spending decline in retirement?

My two big questions about this research are:

  • How reliable is it?
  • What practical use can we make of it?

I’ll have to dig into those questions in my part two – otherwise, this article would be unreadably long again. (Oops, too late for that!)

Take it steady,

The Accumulator

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DeFi: down the decentralized finance rabbit hole

A picture of a bunny to illustrate going down the DeFi rabbit hole

Note: DeFi is the Wild West of even the wildest frontiers of investing. Seriously, messing about with DeFi makes punting on GameStop look a hobby for widows and orphans. This piece is for general interest and the (mis)education for those who want to know more about the Byzantine realm of DeFi. It is definitely not advice to do anything.

Like Fight Club, the first rule of crypto is: don’t talk about crypto. Unless you’re a crypto ‘bro’ on the Internet, that is.

In which case the rule seems to be to never discuss anything else.

But back in what we increasingly must call ‘real-life’, mentioning crypto to your friends will probably prompt one of several judgements:

  1. You’re a boring nerd.
  2. You’re an idiot for promoting a pyramid scheme.
  3. You’ve gotten rich out of it but they haven’t, and now they feel inadequate.
  4. They assume you’ve gotten rich out of it – but you haven’t, and now you both feel inadequate.

None of which will do much for your social life.

We’re among a different sort of friends here, however. And let’s face of it – most of us are Type 1s.

So let me tell you a story.

Bank error in my favour

A year or so ago I accidentally made £1 million in a small cap crypto-mining stock, simply because my bank wouldn’t let me send money to Coinbase.

Yes. Really.

Afterwards I rectified the banking situation, just in case I should need to buy any crypto again.

I wasn’t particularly looking to ‘do’ anything in crypto, mind you. I just wanted to make sure the pipes were clear if I got the urge. 

Soon enough that opportunity presented itself.

Pump and dump

So-called pump and dump schemes are rife in the crypto world. Long illegal in the real-world, crypto and social media have given them a new lease of life.

Here’s how it works. An organized group of insiders quietly buy up a lot of some small cap coin. They then promote it to their followers, who in turn buy it up and further ‘pump’ it on social media – until at some point everyone ‘dumps’ it onto whomever was last in.

Apart from the initial insider buying, all this unfolds over a few seconds. It’s an ultra-high-frequency Ponzi scheme. Prices sometimes go up 500% or more in a few seconds after the target coin is announced.

Having been something of a market micro-structure geek in a previous life, I thought all this was quite interesting. Especially if I could identify the coin that the promoters were quietly buying it up, pre-pump. 

Musing on Twitter about the likely identity of the next such coin, I fell in with some other people trying to do the same.

And we sort of did.

Well, once, and only once, the first time, we guessed right.

We made quite a lot of money in about five minutes. It felt great at the time. But it also gave us a great deal of false confidence .

The truth is we’d just got lucky.

And despite many hours of work – and money spent buying the wrong coins – we never repeated the trick.

Also whilst we’d never actively promoted anything, it raised the question of whether we were taking advantage of the same suckers as the promoters?

So we gave up.

Mental accounting

A healthy dollop of mental accounting and house money bias meant I kept this pot in cryptocurrency.

Indeed I’d learnt quite a bit about the crypto ecosystem in my explorations. (Not least that it contained a lot of scammers.)

So I set myself up for the long haul. I got a hardware wallet, bought a few coins I liked the sound of, and then put the rest in stable coins.

The question then turned to how to maximise the yield on these assets.

DeFi lending 

My first introduction to decentralized finance (DeFi) was lending my stable coins on platforms like AAVE.

The concept here is pretty simple. A borrower posts collateral, say Ether. They then then borrow against it, at a loan-to-value (LTV) of say 30%.

If the price of Ether falls such that the LTV rises to 60%, for instance, the Ether gets sold automatically.

But why would people want to borrow stable coins against their crypto?

Two reasons:

  • Tax. Let’s say I have $10m worth of Bitcoin that I bought eons ago for circa $0 (I don’t for the record), and I want to buy a house worth $2m. I can sell $3m worth of Bitcoin, pay capital gains tax of $1m, buy my house, and be left with $7m worth of Bitcoin. Alternatively, I can borrow $2m against my Bitcoin, buy the house, pay no tax, and still have $10m worth of Bitcoin.
  • Leverage. Is 200% annualized volatility not exciting enough? A crypto whale might do the same trick but buy more Bitcoin with the money they’ve borrowed. This is pretty alien to me – I prefer to apply leverage to low volatility assets like property or bonds – but each to their own.

All this is managed through smart contracts, so there’s no need to trust anyone. (Okay – it’s slightly more complicated than that).

These sort of arrangements are one reason why crypto is so volatile – automated liquidation cascades from leveraged platforms.

Anyway, lending on these platforms could net me mid-single-digit yields on the USDC stablecoin.

I don’t like the more popular Tether (aka USDT), because it seems so obviously dodgy. For a while I even tried depositing USDC on the AAVE platform, borrowing USDT, selling it for USDC, and then depositing the USDC back in AAVE.

Effectively that created a position where I got paid to be short USDT. But I suspect we may be waiting a long time for that situation to blow up.

Incidentally, if you’re earning yield in one of the centralised exchanges like Coinbase, they are just doing this sort of thing on your behalf – for a cut.

Much simpler and maybe worthwhile from an admin perspective.

Liquidity provision

Soon enough even this got pretty boring. So I started experimenting with Automated Market Makers (AMMs) and liquidity provision on platforms like Uniswap and SushiSwap.

AMMs are a central DeFi building block. They enable users to swap one token for another in a trust-less fashion.

I’m not going to get into the mechanics (others have). In simple terms, you supply a pair of tokens (ETH and USDC, say) and you’re betting that the fees earned outpace the losses from being arbitraged.

The risks?

The biggest is the deceptively-branded ‘impermanent’ loss (there’s nothing impermanent about it) if one asset moves a lot versus the other asset.

And of course ever-present smart contract risk

Yield farming

The hyper-competitive nature of DeFi means that protocols (coins and tokens) are competing with each other all the time.

Hence they’ll often pay you (in yet another pointless token) for providing liquidity on their platform, as opposed to someone else’s.

You want to sell these ‘reward’ tokens as soon as you can. They aren’t really useful for anything else – they are ‘down-only’ assets.

But why not automate the process, constantly sell the rewards, and invest the proceeds back into the liquidity pool?

Doing it manually is a bore – but there’s an app for that. So-called ‘yield optimizers’ get it done whilst adding another layer of smart contract risk.

And guess what? These all compete with each other too, so they’ll pay you in some other pointless token to use their yield optimizer.

And so on and so on. You can see why people call this stuff ‘Money LEGOs’.

(The lingua franca of crypto is American English, so no, not ‘Money LEGO’.) 

More DeFi hot air gas

The amazing thing about the whole space if you come from a traditional finance background is the rate of innovation.

Teams build platforms that attract billions of dollars of Total Value Locked (TVL) in a few weeks or days. That’s less time than it would take to get your idea on the product committee’s agenda for discussion back in the centralised world. Let alone actually build anything.

There are downsides. Many of these are scams (so-called rug pulls) for a start.

Also, you’ve got to keep moving your money to get the best returns. Every time you do, you pay a bit of ETH, called ‘Gas’. And that can really add up.

In fact you can go to fees.wtf to see how much you’ve spent: 

[Details obscured for privacy.]

Um, $11,000 in transaction fees? Fees.wtf indeed!

I thought this stuff was supposed to cut costs by removing the middleman?

Picking up pennies

Soon enough I was seeking out cheaper blockchains, which, once you’ve ‘bridged’ over to them, open up whole new ways of getting confused. But at least less expensively.

Before you know it you’re:

  • On the Binance Smart Chain staking your Cake-BNB LPs on Pancakeswap to earn CAKE that you then stake in its auto-compounder to earn still more CAKE.
  • Using Solona and the appropriately named tulip.garden to leverage yield-farm some Samoyedcoin-USDC (with obviously the borrow on the $SAMO leg – leaving you net short the ‘shitcoin’).
  • On Terra using the Mirror Protocol to run a delta-neutral long/short farming strategy, but obviously using Spectrum to auto-compound and earn extra $SPEC on the long-leg, to effectively earn 40% or more on UST.

And no I’m never going to say any of those sentences aloud.

Eventually you come across a flowchart like this1:

You think you understand it. You even start to think about putting the trade on.

But then you remember….

Yes, you pay tax on your DeFi gains

It may be news to some of my fellow Guardian readers (“Crypto is burning the planet and is only used by crooks”) but you pay taxes on all of this.

Taxes should be simple. I’ll just give my ETH address to my accountant, and we’re good right?

After all, it’s all publicly on the block chain, isn’t it? My accountant can surely just look it up on Etherscan? In fact I should be able to provide my address to HMRC and it can send me a bill, right?

Sadly that’s not the world we live in. 

Whilst HMRC has published some good guidance, there’s still a lot of reporting stuff on a ‘best guess’ basis.

Some tax tips

Monevator is not able to give tax advice. However here are a few things to be aware of:

  • Do not believe anyone who tells you that tax is only payable once you convert crypto to real money. This is nonsense. Swap ETH for BTC and that’s a sale of the ETH and a purchase of the BTC. There are capital gains tax (CGT) considerations. 
  • The native reporting currency of crypto is USD. There’s always an extra leg on cost / proceeds calculations to turn it into sterling (GBP).
  • There’s a lot of transactions on which both income and capital gains tax are effectively payable. If you receive ‘rewards’, you pay income tax on their value when you receive them. You also form a cost basis, because you will pay CGT on any gain when you sell them. Far more likely though is the opposite problem: their value will fall. When you sell you probably won’t even receive enough proceeds to cover the income tax to pay. Nice!

Tax complexity is a deterrent from engaging in the racier stuff. It’s not the paying that’s the problem. It’s the paperwork.

The lack of any sort of tax wrapper – such as an innovative ISA – or failing that just a simplified reporting regime is frustrating.

Crypto bros get about as much public sympathy as BTL landlord though, so I can’t see this changing any time soon. 

Why is there money to be made in DeFi?

In my experience you can make fairly low risk returns of 10-30% per annum in DeFi, at least at the moment.

Which leads to the obvious question: how come?

If we pop our Efficient Markets Hypothesis (EMH) hats on, there’s a few possible explanations:

  • Reasonable pricing for risk. These yields represent the correct pricing for all the risks: smart contract flaws, bugs, rug pulls, hacks, legal issues, wrench attacks, self-custody risks, tax risk, and so on. Most of these are uncorrelated with the other risks I take in, say, equities. To be clear, I’m not saying crypto prices are uncorrelated with equities. As we’ve been reminded in recent weeks, these are risk assets like any other – and stablecoin pegs will probably not be maintained in extreme risk-off scenarios. What I am saying is that the risk of my MetaMask wallet getting hacked is not correlated with stock prices. Which all suggests, from an efficient frontier perspective, that there’s a place for a small allocation to defi in a wider portfolio.
  • Arbitrage constraints. This theory holds that there’s friction between the crypto and real-money worlds, particularly from an institutional perspective. This constrains arbitrage. Why else would pension funds invest in junk bonds yielding 3% a year, when they could deposit in Anchor Protocol and earn 19.5% a year? I believe these constraints must exist, at least to some degree. But why don’t rich individuals already in crypto bid away these opportunities? Maybe double-digit annualized returns on stablecoins isn’t enough excitement when they believe they can make a 1,000% return on SHIB INU, or whatever. 

I suspect there’s a bit of both going on.

Either:

  • The whole space will blow-up. Yields are currently high because of the demand for stablecoins to speculate on ‘proper’ crypto. In a long bear market for crypto the demand won’t be there. Hence yields will fall. 
  • Alternatively maybe institutional money will eventually find the market. Again, yields will then fall. 

Either way, yields will fall. It’s only natural. Markets always get more efficient as they mature. Hence why I’m making hay while the sun is shining.

WAGMI! But please please read that disclaimer we started with.

You can follow Finumus on Twitter or read his other articles on Monevator.

  1. If anyone knows the source we’d love to link to it. []
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Weekend reading: Take a timeout

Weekend reading logo

What caught my eye this week.

I have used more than one of these Friday missives recently to talk about the shakier corners of the market.

But this week saw even the giant US bellwethers take enough of a beating for ardent indexers to notice.

Rather than listen to my pop market psychology again (don’t worry, I’ll be back) I’ve rounded up some other people’s views below.

Please note! If you have a plan and you’re happy with it, you’re welcome to skip all this stuff.

Especially if you think focusing on it might derail your sensible strategy.

Similarly if the volatility is getting to you emotionally, there’s no shame in taking a timeout, either.

Markets will be markets, regardless of whether you and I pay attention.

And whether they crash or soar, what looked terrible on a stomach-churning day like last Monday won’t be visible on an index graph in a year.

Am I bovvered?

Perhaps a good rule-of-thumb is to match the interest you give to these gyrations with the cadence of your investing activity.

If you invest automatically every month, I wouldn’t worry about weekly wobbles. If you rebalance once a year, maybe check out until December.

You needn’t suffer the daily turmoil with us masochists for no reason.

As Taleb stressed in Fooled by Randomness, whether stocks are up or down in a day is very nearly a coin-flip – close to 50/50…

…but losing half the time feels far worse.

You want some more? Here’s a selection of nicely-baked takes:

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