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An oil painting of a couple counting their money.

This will date me even more than my nostalgia for Bruce Willis in Moonlighting, but I’m old enough to remember when choosing how to run your financial life meant picking the current account that offered the best freebies.

Branded piggy bank, Young Person’s Railcard, or copy of Now That’s What I Call Music: 17?

Talk about choice paralysis.

As for the banks themselves, there was even less to tell between them. One offered a slightly less ruinous overdraft, another might pay you a few quid on any money it hadn’t nudged you into spending. Once cash machine withdrawal fees were ditched in the 1990s, the banks became interchangeable in most people’s eyes – even if we seldom changed between them.

This bland monopoly invited disruption. It took a while for technology to make that possible, but the past few years has seen a wave of competition.

Young people increasingly wave their phones to pay for things or flash luminescent credit cards that double as flirting tools at the bar. They manage their finances using friendly apps that slide into their direct messages when there’s a service outage. They round up their loose change for a rainy day, and see their spending across town visualised as a heat map. In the US the super-popular Venmo service even turns your spending activity into a news feed that you can share with your friends.

Fintech (that’s short for ‘financial technology’) has exploded, and all this is not even to mention a slightly earlier round of innovation, such as PayPal and the peer-to-peer lenders like Ratesetter.

A list of the UK-based new wave alone sounds like the line-up of a music festival where you’re too out-of-touch to know the bands – Revolut, Monzo, Squirrel, Chip, GoHenry, Dozens, Plum, Yolt, Loot, Exo, Divido, TransferWise, Bean, Tide and many more.1

This list is far from complete. And while London is undoubtedly a hotbed for fintech innovation, there are hordes more doing the same thing around the world.

Now I suspect there’s already a vast range of reactions to this post from the Monevator faithful.

Some of you are old hands at shuffling digital versions of your credit cards or – like my ex, which startled me when I first saw it – paying for almost everything with your phone.

Others had been feeling pretty hip because you just used a contactless card for the first time.2

The point is the financial future is here – if unevenly distributed –  and there’s zero chance of the rate of change slowing.

Apple plays its card

It’s not only two guys in a WeWork office who are trying to shake up financial services.

The world’s occasionally most valuable company, Apple, just unveiled Apple Card, a fee-free credit card that’s linked to Apple Pay and backed by Goldman Sachs.

Due to launch in the US this summer, the tech giant’s card will pay 2% cashback on purchases made with Apple Pay, rising to 3% at the Apple Store or via its (expanding) subscription services.

There will also be a shiny titanium physical card, for those all-important at-the-bar props. You laugh, but when marketing to a generation that routinely uploads photos of their breakfast, this stuff matters.

Vanity will come at a price, however, as cashback with the physical card will only be 1%.

And incredibly it won’t even have a contactless chip in it.3

Apple shares rose on the news of Apple Card (alongside much else) and Visa shares fell, but this may prove misguided. Most of these services run on Visa and MasterCard’s underlying networks, after all.

I think it’s the fintechs who should be most scared, given screenshots like this:

Automatic categorization of spending and maps displaying where you dropped your dough?

This sort of thing was fintech’s domain. They’re going to find it hard to run ahead of Apple and its billions.

Old money

Figuring out the future of fintechs is tricky, then. But divining the fate of existing financial service companies is equally non-trivial.

Take the banks. They’ve been written off by fintechs as lumbering dinosaurs ripe for the devouring.

Perhaps, but in that case start-ups such as those I mentioned earlier – and mobile-first challenger banks like Starling, Tandem, and Atom – have so far proven to be little more than mosquitoes. They might suck a little blood, but for all their buzz the big banks still hold most of the public’s cash and debts on their books.

Preoccupied perhaps by the effort needed just to meet banking regulations, the challenger banks haven’t so far matched the innovation of financial platforms like Monzo, let alone what’s promised by newer entrants.

The challengers are also yet to attract truly landscape-altering amounts of money.

Meanwhile the fintechs have unveiled endless features – from bots that query your spending to tools that help you shuffle your loose change into savings or freeze your cards with a tap on your phone – but they manage mere pennies, relatively speaking.

Happily a fintech is cheaper to run than a big bank. There’s none of the branches, for starters, and Eastern European tech teams can do much of the heavy lifting. Yet most if not all are still unprofitable, not least because of the marketing cost of winning new customers.

As for the big retail banks, they already have roughly all the money. In this sense they’ve already won!

But big bank business models are based on providing expensive loans (when not ripping us off more directly, with say the £35bn PPI scandal), which makes it hard for them to embrace more customer-friendly solutions. They have thousands of costly bank branches to manage down in the face of political opposition. And they have a massive ‘tech debt’, running on legacy systems that might still in places use frameworks devised in the 1950s.

This combination of having most of the money and seeing little need to innovate – especially as it’s so bloody difficult for incumbents – has meant the big banks have mostly sat out the fintech Cambrian explosion.

But I believe 2019 is the year this changes, thanks to open banking.

To oversimplify, open banking is a government-regulated push for banks to make possible the sharing of their customers’ data through a software layer that other banks and third-parties can hook into.

At first the banks seemed to be treating open banking as yet another compliance box to be ticked, but my sense is there’s now a bit of “one for all and all for one” in the air.

Last year HSBC was one of the first major banks to embrace open banking. Its Money Connected enables you to see your savings, loans, and mortgages held with other banks. (Essentially what the fintecherati call a ‘wrap platform’, which have long been popular in places like Australia).

This year I’ve had emails from Lloyds, Natwest, and others talking up similar – and related – services.

Santander, for example, has teamed with MoneyBox to enable its customers to round up transaction amounts and automatically pop the difference into a savings account.

This is just the beginning. No sensible bank will offer up its own data without trying to gobble up and make use of the data of its rivals. So now it’s begun they’ll all be at it.

Fintech will eat itself

This must be frightening for the fintech leaders (though I’ve yet to hear any admit it).

If the big incumbent banks copy all the neat tricks of the newcomers, it’s hard to see why customers will bother moving their money. A pink credit card will only get you so far.

In fact I’ve long expected the first phase of the fintech revolution will end with a massive roll-up by the big banks.

Something similar happened 20 years ago, when lots of high interest savings accounts popped up on the Internet and looked set to siphon away the big banks’ cash deposits. But ultimately their business models floundered, despite lower overheads, and they were snapped up by the established giants.

Seeing the same fate for the fintechs is not quite guaranteed. For a start, rolling them up is more technically challenging.

It might seem that buying a fintech would be an easy way to bolt bells-and-whistles onto an old bank’s customer offering, but the nightmare task of stitching the underlying technologies together could make it too much hassle. (Think of the car crash at RBS when it attempt to spin-off Williams & Glyn or the tech meltdown at TSB, for instance.)

Some of the fintechs were founded on the premise that new technology could do things old tech simply couldn’t do.

There’s also the question of what’s really to be gained by the big banks. The start-ups have attracted only small amounts of money so far, and I think there’s uncertainty even where they’ve done a better job at gaining customer numbers. The likes of Monzo and Revolut boast millions of users, but those customers are obviously more footloose – and probably less profitable – than those of us continuing to stick with the accounts we opened as students 30 years ago. Flighty millennials might not be worth paying up for.

Then again, perhaps this fintech revolution really is just that, and we should throw out our old notions of four or five big companies keeping most of our money in their vaults. Maybe the fintechs will continue to leach away assets from the big banks. In the meantime consolidation could be more fintech eats fintech as they strive to turn a profit.

Either way, I believe we can expect big bank accounts to morph to look more like what’s hitherto been offered by the fintechs.

Perhaps the greatest prizes will therefore go to any start-ups that can change the fundamentals of consumer finance – deeply altering our behaviour, say, or running ultra-lean businesses that are able to make us money faster than their deep-pocketed rivals can outspend them – as opposed to the apps with the cutest gimmicks.

Can fintech afford to be a force for good?

One way or another, fintech-style offerings will soon be ubiquitous. Through consolidation or disruption, I expect to see a crowded shelf of viable services competing to manage your money – whether hailing from banks, tech firms, start-up app developers, or your local coffee shop.

This presents a bit of career-risk for us financial bloggers. Many fintechs seek to automate good financial hygiene, from budgeting and saving money for a rainy day to putting your surplus cash into cheap index-tracking ETFs.

They could make good financial habits into a commodity.

Well, that’s the dream. There are competing incentives that suggest the revolution’s aim to do good could run into roadblocks – not least the need to make money.

At a recent event for one fintech raising funding, Dozens, the likeable CEO said he didn’t expect his company to ever provide loans except for sensible purposes like mortgages. All well and good but not particularly profitable. This CEO argues that being built from the ground-up as a super-lean customer-focused company will enable it to forego usurious cash cows such as high-fee credit cards. It is the equivalent of the line from Amazon’s Jeff Bezos, who warned “your margin is my opportunity”.

However if other start-ups turn borrowing money into a fun game, say, and get rich on the proceeds, then more noble-minded firms could lose out to their less scrupulous rivals’ marketing budgets.

We’re therefore likely to see all these services wrestle with doing right by the customer – if only because they have to, because fintech makes managing money so much more transparent – while finding a way to squeeze a profit from us.

Already we’ve seen fintechs drop fee-free foreign cash handling after reaching scale, for example. And big banks have been cutting teaser rates since the beginning of time.

Finally, many of these new services aim to make spending money frictionless – something eagerly embraced by retailers looking to prize us from our savings. What we gain in smart text alerts and automatically investing our loose change, we might lose when airily waving our phones around in a late night out on the town.

Watch this space

So perhaps there will be a future for personal financial advice. As our financial lives get ever more complicated – even if helped by apps that promise to make things easier – there will be landmines and booby traps galore.

I believe that within five to ten years everyone will manage their finances – or at least monitor their finances – using software and systems that only a nerd-dragon would have at their disposal today.

But money and investing will remain a fraught subject, because so much of it turns on our emotions and human frailties – and because the desire for companies to part us from our hoard is at the heart of capitalism.

Boring monolithic banking and money blogging 1.0 is dead!

Long live sexy banking and money blogging 2.0!

For the record I’m a shareholder in several of the fintech firms I’ve mentioned. I’m also considering a small investment in Dozens, which is currently raising money on Seedrs. While we’re at it I also own shares in PayPal, Square, Apple, and a couple of the big UK banks. And breathe! Let me tell you about complicated 😉

  1. Note: See my disclosure comment at the end of this article. []
  2. I’m not joking. I’ve been told by industry types that contactless payment usage plummets outside of London, where we’ve all been trained to accept it by London transport. []
  3. ‘Incredibly’ in that contactless isn’t a thing yet in the US – they only just got chip and PIN. []
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Weekend reading: Oops, bonds did it again

Weekend reading logo

What caught my eye this week.

The 10-year UK government bond yield has fallen back to barely 1%. Indeed yields are down again everywhere, as Bloomberg reports:

Bond yields around the world are tumbling to multi-year lows as the global shift by central banks to a more accommodative stance has put the kibosh on the oft-predicted but still-unrealized end of the long bull run in government debt.

Among the superlatives hit this week:

– Japan’s 10-year yield slid to its lowest since 2016 on Friday
– New Zealand’s equivalent slipped below 2 percent for the first time earlier in the day
– Yields on benchmark Treasuries have dropped this week to the lowest in more than a year
– Those in Australia are just three basis points from a record low
– The global stock of negative-yielding debt hit the highest since mid-2017

A quick way to be called a moron by people who know more than they understand over the past 5-10 years has been to suggest that bonds still have a place in most portfolios. A wealth-destroying crash was “obviously” imminent, you see.

But markets often move in the way that surprises commonplace assumptions, and that’s certainly been true of bonds.

(Click to enlarge)

Source: Bloomberg

This low yield era almost certainly won’t last forever. However a bit of humility is in order from all of us (including me!) about the timing of any long-lasting reversal.

Of course this is exactly why most people are best off investing passively and getting on with other things in life. (If you want to try to outsmart the unthinkable, there’s always Brexit.)

Have a great weekend! (Hope to see some of you on the march. 🙂 ) [continue reading…]

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Why the 4% rule doesn’t work

The 4% rule is about as safe as a bomb, a lightning strike, a virus, a rocketThe 4% rule went viral because it was billed as simple and safe (*coughs a noise that rhymes with bullwhip*).

Unfortunately, the 4% rule is not safe.

Nor is it simple, once you put the nuance back.

The story is seductive – that you can withdraw 4% a year from your portfolio and never run out of money.

This is often known as a safe withdrawal rate (SWR). Unfortunately the 4% version is about as reliable as that other withdrawal method you’ve heard of.

Got a portfolio of £1 million? The 4% rule claims you can safely withdraw £40,000 in year one, adjust that amount by inflation in year two, and so on, every year until the happy hereafter.

The 4% rule also gives us the rule of 25. Want to live the life of Reilly on £40,000 a year?

£40,000 x 25 = £1 million

That’s the sum you need to amass before you can hit the beach.

Simple as that. At a stroke of the calculator anyone grappling with a defined contribution pension can treat it like it’s one of those turnkey defined benefit, gold-plated jobs!

If only.

The 4% rule: the things they forgot to tell you

Where to begin?

The 4% rule doesn’t include taxes. The £40,000 figure above is gross income. You’ll need to live on less after tax.

Worse: the investment growth assumptions that underwrite the rule assume no capital gains, dividend or interest taxes. If your investments aren’t completely shielded from tax then you’ll need to lower your SWR.

The 4% rule doesn’t include investment costs. Fund charges and platform fees chip away at your annual returns and leech the SWR. Financial planner and researcher Michael Kitces explains that the answer isn’t as simple as deducting your portfolio’s total OCF from the SWR either.

(Another thing to note: the 4% rule reinvests dividends. If yours are spent or taxed then fuhgeddaboudit.)

The 4% rule applies to 30-year retirements. If you live longer than 30 years then the failure rate creeps up unless your SWR goes down.

Financial planner William Bengen, whose research inspired the 4% rule, recommended a 3% SWR to see you through 50 years or more.

The 4% rule uses US historical returns. Bengen’s original portfolio comprised:

  • 50% US equities
  • 50% US intermediate government bonds.

Bengen then used historical annual returns from 1926 onwards to discover that an initial withdrawal of 4% would have enabled retirees to live out the next 30 years on a constant, inflation-adjusted income, without running out of money, come hell or Great Depression.

That’s nice, but remember the US enjoyed super-powered investment returns during the period studied. Other developed countries did not fair so well. Retirement researcher Wade Pfau calculates:

  • The UK’s SWR as 3.36%
  • Germany’s as 1.01%
  • Japan’s as 0.27%.
  • Even the global portfolio only made 3.45%

Apply the 4% rule to Japan and your money ran out one third of the time. In the worst case, your money evaporated in just three years!

Pfau and others even doubt that Americans can rely on future returns being so kind.

Known safe withdrawal rates will fall if a future sequence of returns is worse than anything currently stinking up the historical record.

What can you do with that information? Well, some researchers have worked on the link between current asset valuations and SWR. You’re advised to choose a more conservative SWR when valuations are high, while you can live a little when valuations are low.

Incidentally, the 4% rule even fails in the US when you use a different dataset. Many retirement researchers argue that the sample sizes are too small anyway.

The 4% rule applies to a specific asset allocation. Change the 50-50 US equities and intermediate government bonds split and you’re playing a different game. Bond heavy portfolios (say over 65% bonds) have historically sustained lower SWRs, especially over longer time horizons.

Sticking with allocation, UK investors shouldn’t use US SWRs – but you should appreciate that UK SWRs aren’t appropriate either if you’ve got a globally diversified portfolio.

Bengen and others have shown that diversifying into certain risk factors can improve your SWR. What about other assets such as REITs or gold? Will they improve your chances? The future is uncertain.

The 4% rule’s definition of success is probably not yours. Some SWR studies apply a sneaky ‘success’ rate. They count a SWR as sustainable if it only failed 5% or 10% of the time. The famed Trinity study did this. I think this is acceptable, but you may not. Either way it’s not ‘safe’.

Failure itself is defined as people running out of money before they run out of time. You spent your last dollar as you expired on the final stroke of midnight, December 31st, on the 30th year of your retirement? You’re a success baby!

This definition of failure keeps things simple but it’s not realistic. Most people aren’t oblivious to plummeting portfolios. They won’t fling themselves off the cliff edge like an Olympic lemming. Many will slow down their spending before it becomes unsustainable. People also cut spending in scenarios where the situation looks dire but hindsight tells us things ultimately worked out just fine.

Sadly, you don’t know which it is at the time. People cutback early because they can’t predict if they are history in the making, or whether they’re living through just another close shave for the 4% rule. In other words, living the rule can be pretty scary without a Plan B.

The 4% rule is inflexible. What if you need to spend more than your SWR allows? I don’t mean you have the occasional bad year. I mean something changes that proves your original income estimate to be off-base. Maybe you have unforeseen health costs, or a newly dependent family member. Perhaps there’s no obvious lifestyle creep but your personal inflation rate constantly outstrips headline inflation. Within five to ten years you’re spending way more than planned.

A high SWR like 4% gives you little room for manoeuvre when high spending meets poor returns. Everybody needs a more flexible plan than the basic 4% package suggests.

What if you spend too little? The selling point of a SWR is that it’s supposed to survive the nightmare scenarios. If life turns out better for you – and most of the time it does – then you could have spent more before you were gonged off. All the other caveats notwithstanding, Kitces shows that the 4% rule typically does leave large sums of spare lolly on the table.

Now that’s a good problem to have, especially for your heirs. Whereas, if you definitely want to leave something for your heirs, well, that’s not the 4% rule’s bag. It assumes capital depletion is A-OK. If it’s not then you’re into the expensive world of capital preservation.

So, you can spend too much or too little! Which is it? Well, naive application of the 4% rule can lead to either. It’s a rule of thumb not a strategy.

None of this is meant to impugn Bengen’s original research. It was groundbreaking and he clearly flagged his assumptions back in 1994. The 4% rule has taken on a life of its own, whereas Bengen’s work was only meant to be part of the puzzle. What’s often missed is the advances made in retirement research since.

You can devise a strategy from the wider body of knowledge. See McClung and also our post on how to work out a more sustainable withdrawal rate.

Step one is understanding that living off your money is as much art as science. And step two is knowing that the 4% rule does not work as popularly advertised.

Take it steady,

The Accumulator

Bonus appendix: 4% rule maths

Year 1 income: Withdraw 4% of your starting portfolio value.

500,000 x 0.04 = £20,000 annual income

Year 2 income: Adjust last year’s income by year 1’s inflation rate (e.g. 3%):

£20,000 x 1.03 = £20,600

The 4% SWR only applies to your first withdrawal. Every year after you withdraw the same income as year 1, adjusted for inflation, regardless of the percentage that removes from your portfolio.

Year 3 income: Adjust last year’s income by year 2’s inflation rate (e.g. 2%):

£20,600 x 1.02 = £21,012

And so on. Until the end. Which this is. At least it feels like it.

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Weekend reading: Thicker than The Thick of It

Weekend reading logo

Warning: Brexit before the links. As ever, please feel free to skip if it’ll make you cross.

What happens when a farce turns into farce? Is there a negation, and then rationality reigns?

If so we’re not there yet with Brexit.

Government ministers voting and whipping against their own motions – and still losing. Brexiteers in Parliament voting down Brexit, while those outside deny the contradictions of their own marketing that make it impossible for MPs to “deliver what the people voted for”.

See this tweet for a taste of the antics.

Meanwhile we have Labour sitting on its hands for an (admittedly ill-timed) vote calling for a second referendum – a referendum that is supposedly Labour party policy.

As Theresa May’s undead deal returns for a third showing next week, the leader of the opposition – who has been screwing with us for two and a half years – is now doing the same to a corpse.

I visited College Green in Westminister this week to hang out with the hardcore Leavers and Remainers. It felt like history in the making. Thing is, when history is still being made you don’t know where it’s going.

Were all our national meltdowns – 1066, Henry VIII, Cromwell, Dunkirk, Suez – quite so lunatic? History repeats itself – first as farce, and later as Monty Python. Or perhaps the Tour De France.

I’m reminded of an addict who can’t quit. You watch through your fingers as they are confronted again and again by their terrible life choices. Everyone outside can see the thrill is gone, grim reality reigns, and that they’re just making themselves sick. But given a chance to make a new choice, they spurn it and stumble on.

Brexit. Just say no, kids.

The investing angle? See my previous table. Hard no-deal Brexit has become less likely, but so has a second referendum and no Brexit. We’re coalescing around a middle, which is probably where we should be given the result of the referendum.

Everyone’s not a winner!

[continue reading…]

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