Benoît B. Mandelbrot

"No one is alone in this world. No act is without consequences for others. It is a tenet of chaos theory that, in dynamical systems, the outcome of any process is sensitive to its starting point-or, in the famous cliche, the flap of a butterfly's wings in the Amazon can cause a tornado in Texas. I do not assert markets are chaotic, though my fractal geometry is one of the primary mathematical tools of "chaology." But clearly, the global economy is an unfathomably complicated machine. To all the complexity of the physical world of weather, crops, ores, and factories, you add the psychological complexity of men acting on their fleeting expectations of what may or may not happen-sheer phantasms. Companies and stock prices, trade flows and currency rates, crop yields and commodity futures-all are inter-related to one degree or another, in ways we have barely begun to understand. In such a world, it is common sense that events in the distant past continue to echo in the present."

"The market's second wild trait-almost-cycles-is prefigured in the story of Joseph. Pharaoh dreamed that seven fat cattle were feeding in the meadows, when seven lean kine rose out of the Nile and ate them. Likewise, seven scraggly ears of corn consumed seven plump ears. Joseph, a Hebrew slave, called the dreams prophetic: Seven years of famine would follow seven years of prosperity. He advised Pharaoh to stockpile grain for bad times to come. And when all passed as prophesied, "Joseph opened all the storehouses, and sold unto the Egyptians...And all countries came into Egypt to Joseph to buy corn; because that the famine was so sore in all lands." Given the profits he and Pharaoh must have made, one might call Joseph the first international arbitrageur. That pattern, familiar from Hurst's work on the Nile, also appears in markets. A big 3 percent change in IBM's stock one day might precede a 2 percent jump another day, then a 1.5 percent change, then a 3.5 percent move-as if the first big jumps were continuing to echo down the succeeding days' trading. Of course, this is not a regular or predictable pattern. But the appearance of one is strong. Behind it is the influence of long-range dependence in an otherwise random process-or, put another way, a long-term memory through which the past continues to influence the random fluctuations of the present."

Time does not run in a straight line, like the markings on a wooden ruler. It stretches and shrinks, as if the ruler were made of balloon rubber. This is true in daily life: We perk up during high drama, nod off when bored. Markets do the same.

"In the 1960's, some old-timers on Wall Street-the men who remembered the trauma of the 1929 Crash and the Great Depression-gave me a warning: "When we fade from this business, something will be lost. That is the memory of 1929." Because of that personal recollection, they said, they acted with more caution, than they otherwise might. Collectively, their generation provided an in-built brake on the wildest form of speculation, an insurance policy against financial excess and consequent catastrophe. Their memories provided a practical form of long-term dependence in the financial markets. Is it any wonder that in 1987 when most of those men were gone and their wisdom forgotten, the market encountered its first crash in nearly sixty years? Or that, two decades later, we would see the biggest bull market, and the worst bear market, in generations? Yet standard financial theory holds that, in modeling markets, all that matters is today's news and the expectations of tomorrow's news."

The whole edifice of modern financial theory is, as described earlier, founded on a few simplifying assumptions. It presumes that homo economicus is rational and self-interested. Wrong, suggests the experience of the irrational, mob-psychology bubble and burst of the 1990's. A further assumption: that price variations follow the bell curve. Wrong, suggests the by-now widely accepted research of me and many others since the 1960's. And now the next assumption wobble: that price variations are what statisticians call i.i.d., independently and identically distributed-like the coin game with each toss unaffected by the last. Evidence for short-term dependence has already been mounting. And now comes the increasingly accepted but still confusing evidence of long-term dependence.

"A key point in my work: Randomness has more than one "state," or form, and each, if allowed to play out on a financial market, would have a radically different effect on the way prices behave. One is the most familiar and manageable form of chance, which I call "mild." It is the randomness of a coin toss, the static of a badly tuned radio. Its classic mathematical expression is the bell curve, or "normal" probability distribution-so-called because it was long viewed as the norm in nature. Temperature, pressure, or other features of nature under study are assumed to vary only so much, and not an iota more, from the average value. At the opposite extreme is what I call "wild" randomness. This is far more irregular, more unpredictable. It is the variation of the Cornish coastline-savage promontories, craggy rocks, and unexpectedly calm bays. The fluctuation from one value to the next is limitless and frightening. In between the two extremes is a third state, which I call "slow" randomness."

But the financial industry is supremely pragmatic. While it may genuflect to the old icons, it invests its research dollars in the search for newer, better gods.

If you are going to use probability to model a financial market, then you had better use the right kind of probability. Real markets are wild. Their price fluctuations can be hair-raising-far greater and more damaging than the mild variations of orthodox finance. That means that individual stocks and currencies are riskier than normally assumed. It means that stock portfolios are being put together incorrectly; far from managing risk, they may be magnifying it. It means that some trading strategies are misguided, and options mis-priced. Anywhere the bell-curve assumption enters the financial calculations, an error can come out.

"In economics, there can never be a "theory of everything." But I believe each attempt comes closer to a proper understanding of how markets behave."

My life seemed to be a series of events and accidents. Yet when I look back, I see a pattern.

"With such theories, economists developed a very elaborate toolkit for analyzing markets, measuring the "variance" and "betas" of different securities and classifying investment portfolios by their probability of risk. According to the theory, a fund manager can build an "efficient" portfolio to target a specific return, with a desired level of risk. It is the financial equivalent of alchemy. Want to earn more without risking too much more? Use the modern finance toolkit to alter the mix of volatile and stable stocks, or to change the ratio of stocks, bonds, and cash. Want to reward employees more without paying more? Use the toolkit to devise an employee stock-option program, with a tunable probability that the option grants will be "in the money." Indeed, the Internet bubble, fueled in part by lavish executive stock options, may not have happened without Bachelier and his heirs."

Thinks about the three-mild, slow, and wild-as if the realm of chance were a world in its own right, with its own peculiar laws of physics. Mild randomness, then, is like the solid phase of matter: low energies, stable structures, well-defined volume. It stays where you put it. Wild randomness is like the gaseous phase of matter: high energies, no structure, no volume. No telling what it can do, where it will go. Slow randomness is intermediate between the others, the liquid state. I first proposed some of my views of chance in 1964 in Jerusalem, at an International Congress of Logic and Philosophy of Science. Since then, I have much expanded the theory and shown it to be critical to understanding financial markets in their proper light. As will be seen, the standard theories of finance assume the easier, mild form of randomness. Overwhelming evidence shows markets are far wilder, and scarier, than that.

Just the opposite appears to happen in the medium term, three to eight years. A stock that was rising over one multi-year stretch has slightly greater odds of falling in the next. A 1988 study by Fama and another economist, Kenneth R. French, documented this. They looked back over the price records of hundreds of stocks and grouped them into portfolios based on their size. They found that about 10 percent of a stock's performance in one eight-year period-that is, there was a small but measurable tendency for a stock doing well in one decade to do poorly in the next. The effect was weaker, but still statistically significant, at shorter time-scales of three to five years. Others have corroborated such findings.

Some economists, when thinking about long memory, are concerned that it undercuts the Efficient Market Hypothesis that prices fully reflect all relevant information; that the random walk is the best metaphor to describe such markets; and that you cannot beat such an unpredictable market. Well, the Efficient Market Hypothesis is no more than that, a hypothesis. Many a grand theory has died under the onslaught of real data.

"Why is geometry often described as ""cold" and ""dry?" One reason lies in its inability to describe the shape of a cloud, a mountain, a coastline, or a tree. Clouds are not spheres, mountains are not cones, coastlines are not circles, and bark is not smooth, nor does lightning travel in a straight line."