A Letter from the Farm
On April 7, 2020, as the pandemic crash was still unfolding, Mark Spitznagel wrote to the investors in his hedge fund. The S&P 500 had just fallen about a third in barely a month. Universa Investments' flagship fund, the Black Swan Protection Protocol, had returned 3,612 percent in March alone and 4,144 percent for the year to date. Forbes reported that Spitznagel told his clients the returns likely surpassed any other investment they could think of over the period they had been invested with him. Bloomberg obtained the letter, and within days the figure was all over the financial press. Spitznagel also wrote that Universa had cashed in many of its positions, locking in the gains, while keeping protection in place against further sell-offs, which he called one of the tricks of the trade. The same letter warned that the stimulus central banks were pouring into markets could prove destructive.
The numbers were real, but they were easy to misread. As Bloomberg later explained, Universa measures returns on what it calls required invested capital, meaning the money spent on option premiums, not on the total assets its clients hand it to protect. A client who put a few percent of a stock portfolio into Universa did not see that portfolio multiply forty times. What the client saw was a small, steadily bleeding line item suddenly pay out enough to offset much of the crash in everything else.
That trade-off, losing a little most of the time in exchange for a large payoff in a disaster, is the core of what Spitznagel has done for more than twenty-five years. He learned the discipline behind it as a teenager in the grain pits of Chicago, sharpened it with Nassim Nicholas Taleb, and turned it into a large and controversial business. He has also written two books arguing that the same idea, accepting a small loss now for a bigger advantage later, applies well beyond options.
By the Numbers
Spitznagel and Universa
16Spitznagel's age when he began learning from Chicago grain trader Everett Klipp
$300MAssets Universa launched with in January 2007
100%+Universa's reported return in 2008, the year of the financial crisis
3,612%Reported March 2020 return, calculated on required invested capital rather than total assets
$1B+Payout Bloomberg reported CalPERS forfeited by ending its Universa hedge weeks before the 2020 crash
3.3%Universa allocation in the portfolio the Wall Street Journal described in 2018, with the rest in the S&P 500
The Babe Ruth of the Board of Trade
Spitznagel was born on March 5, 1971, in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and grew up in the state. As a teenager he was more interested in music and, by his own later account to Worth magazine, in libertarian politics than in business. He subscribed to National Review and went to hear Ron Paul, then a Texas congressman, speak.
His direction changed when he was about sixteen. A family friend, Everett Klipp, was a veteran corn and soybean trader at the Chicago Board of Trade, and Spitznagel went to watch him work. Klipp had grown up on an Illinois dairy farm during the Depression, served in the Navy in World War II, and spent some fifty years in the pits, where he mentored dozens of young traders. Fortune reported that he was known on the floor as the Babe Ruth of the Board of Trade.
Spitznagel was captivated by the noise and coordination of open-outcry trading. Worth described him hanging a chart of corn prices over his bed and carrying agricultural reports around. He spent summers clerking for Klipp. Forbes reported that he would bring Klipp stacks of research on the grain markets and that Klipp would laugh at it. In Spitznagel's retelling, the old trader told him that all that mattered was to take your small losses.
You've got to love to lose money, hate to make money, love to lose money, hate to make money. . . . But we are human beings, we love to make money, hate to lose money. So we must overcome that humanness about us.
— Everett Klipp, as quoted in Mark Spitznagel, The Dao of Capital, 2013
Spitznagel later named this Klipp's Paradox and built much of his first book around it. The instruction was practical. A pit trader who held a losing position in the hope it would come back could be wiped out by one bad day. A trader who sold the moment a position went against him would suffer many small losses and survive to catch the large moves. It took Spitznagel months, he told Worth, to absorb the lesson. Eventually, he said, he could go home happy even after losing money, as long as he had traded the way he meant to.
He never lost his gratitude. In a 2023 interview with Fortune he called Klipp one of the greatest people he had ever known and described meeting him as a kid as his positive black swan event.
From the Bond Pit to the Crisis Years
Spitznagel graduated from Kalamazoo College in 1993. At twenty-two, Forbes reported, he bought a seat at the Chicago Board of Trade and traded Treasury bond and eurodollar futures as an independent local, reportedly one of the youngest in the bond pit. It was a physically demanding, loud and unforgiving place, and a good one for learning Klipp's rule in practice.
He then moved to the trading arm of a Japanese bank, according to Forbes, in time to watch the Asian financial crisis of 1997 and the Russian default of 1998. The second of those brought down Long-Term Capital Management, the hedge fund run by celebrated traders and Nobel-winning economists, which lost about $4.6 billion. For Spitznagel, the lesson was that sophisticated models could underestimate rare events, and that the people most confident in their risk estimates might be the most exposed. Forbes wrote that the episode convinced him to develop a style that would profit from panics rather than be destroyed by them.
In 1999 he enrolled in a mathematical finance program at New York University's Courant Institute. One of his teachers there was Nassim Nicholas Taleb, then an adjunct professor and a former options trader who had spent years arguing that markets produce extreme events far more often than standard models assume.
Empirica and the Long Bleed
Spitznagel and Taleb became friends and, in 1999, partners. They launched Empirica Capital, a fund built on a simple and uncomfortable idea: buy large numbers of cheap, far out-of-the-money options that would expire worthless most of the time but pay off enormously in a crash. Taleb was the theorist and public voice. Spitznagel, the trader, handled much of the day-to-day execution.
The approach got attention. Malcolm Gladwell profiled Taleb and Empirica in The New Yorker in 2002 in a piece called "Blowing Up," describing a fund that expected to lose small amounts almost every day. The dot-com collapse gave Empirica some good years at the start of the decade.
The rest of the time was harder. The mid-2000s were calm, with low volatility and steadily rising markets, and a strategy that pays off only in disasters mostly lost money. Empirica was wound down in the mid-2000s. Taleb turned to writing The Black Swan, published in 2007. Spitznagel spent about two years as a proprietary trader at Morgan Stanley, in its Process Driven Trading group.
The Empirica years left Spitznagel with a lesson that later shaped Universa. Tail protection only helps an investor who holds it continuously, including through the long quiet stretches when it looks like a waste of money. A fund that sells nothing but disaster insurance will spend most of its life explaining losses. It needs clients who understand why they own it.
Universa and 2008
In January 2007 Spitznagel founded Universa Investments, with Taleb as an adviser. The firm started with about $300 million under management, working out of a small office in Santa Monica, California, and built software to scan the options markets for the cheapest crash protection it could find. Taleb's title eventually became distinguished scientific adviser. He advised on the strategy and did not manage the money.
The mechanics are simple to state and hard to run. A put option gives its owner the right to sell an asset at a fixed price before a set date. If the strike price is far below the current market, the option is cheap, because the market would have to collapse for it to be worth anything. Most such options expire worthless. But when a crash does come, their value can rise many times over in days, because they become far more likely to pay off at the same moment that fear drives up the price of all options. The skill lies in choosing which strikes and expiries give the most protection per dollar, in rolling the positions continuously, and in knowing when to cash them in.
The timing was remarkable. Within months, the U.S. housing market was breaking down. Through 2008 Universa held put options on the S&P 500 and on financial companies including Goldman Sachs and American International Group, and as the crisis deepened those options soared in value. The firm reported returns of more than 100 percent for 2008. As investors looked for protection after the fact, Universa's assets grew to about $6 billion by 2009.
The experience set the pattern for the firm's reputation. Universa would be known for spectacular numbers in crashes and long stretches of modest losses in between. The headline years made it famous, and the quiet years tested its clients' patience.
In 2014 the firm moved its headquarters from Santa Monica to Miami, a decision widely reported as reflecting Florida's tax and business climate.
The Dao of Capital
In 2013 Spitznagel published his first book, The Dao of Capital: Austrian Investing in a Distorted World. It is an unusual investment book, drawing on the Daoist classic the Laozi, the military strategists Sunzi and Clausewitz, the growth patterns of conifer forests, and above all on the Austrian school of economics, especially Eugen von Böhm-Bawerk and Ludwig von Mises.
The organizing idea is what Böhm-Bawerk called roundabout production, which Spitznagel renders with the German word Umweg, a detour. Robinson Crusoe catches more fish in the long run if he first goes hungry for a while to build a boat and a net. A forest's conifers grow slowly in poor soil and eventually outlast the fast-growing trees around them. The investor, in Spitznagel's telling, should accept an immediate disadvantage in order to be positioned for a larger advantage later.
Rather than pursue the direct route of immediate gain, we will seek the difficult and roundabout route of immediate loss, an intermediate step which begets an advantage for greater potential gain.
— Mark Spitznagel, The Dao of Capital, 2013
The book's other theme is political. Spitznagel argues that central banks, by holding interest rates artificially low, distort the price signals that coordinate investment, encourage too much debt and speculation, and set up booms that end in busts. That view aligns with his public politics. Wikipedia, citing contemporary reports, notes that alongside
Peter Thiel he was a major supporter of Ron Paul's 2012 presidential campaign, and CNBC reported in 2015 that he would serve as a senior economic adviser to Senator Rand Paul's presidential campaign.
Reviewers split. Free-market commentators praised the book. More conventional readers found the Austrian framework and the investment conclusions harder to connect. Paul Tudor Jones, the macro trader, said it showed how a seemingly difficult immediate loss becomes an advantageous intermediate step toward greater gain.
The Pension Fund That Stopped Paying
The case that best illustrates both the value and the difficulty of Spitznagel's product involves the California Public Employees' Retirement System, the largest public pension fund in the United States. In 2017 CalPERS hired two outside managers to provide tail-risk protection: Universa, which ran the larger hedge, and LongTail Alpha of Newport Beach.
According to Institutional Investor, CalPERS was paying about 5 basis points a year for the external portion of the program, which protected about $5 billion of assets. In late 2019, under a new chief investment officer, the fund decided the program was too expensive and ended it. Universa had unwound its CalPERS positions by January 2020. A few weeks later the pandemic crash began. Bloomberg reported in April 2020 that by scrapping the Universa hedge, CalPERS had forfeited a payout of more than $1 billion. LongTail's hedge was still being unwound during the crash and returned an estimated $150 million to $175 million.
CalPERS defended its choice. Its chief investment officer, Ben Meng, told Institutional Investor the fund had ended explicit tail-risk hedging because of its high cost, lack of scalability, and the availability of better alternatives, and CalPERS later said those alternatives had offset about $11 billion of losses in the March sell-off.
For Spitznagel's argument, the episode was close to a controlled experiment. The protection did what it was designed to do. The client simply was not holding it when it mattered, because the steady cost had become impossible to justify in a long bull market. CalPERS was also making a reasonable point of its own: at the scale of a fund with hundreds of billions of dollars, a hedge that protects $5 billion is small, and it could argue that cheaper tools did more of the work. Both readings can be true at once. What the episode settled is that tail protection is only as good as the client's willingness to keep paying for it.
Spitznagel has described that willingness as his real advantage. Being able to sit and wait and look like a fool over long periods, he told Business Insider in 2021, is a durable edge precisely because most people, and hedge fund managers especially, cannot do it.
Safe Haven
In 2021 Spitznagel published a second book, Safe Haven: Investing for Financial Storms, with a foreword by Taleb. Where The Dao of Capital was philosophical, Safe Haven is narrowly about portfolio math. Its central claim is that the only test of a risk-mitigation strategy is whether it raises the compound growth rate of the investor's whole portfolio over time.
The argument turns on the difference between arithmetic and geometric returns. An investment that averages a good return but occasionally suffers huge losses can compound far more slowly than its average suggests, because a 50 percent loss requires a 100 percent gain to recover. Spitznagel illustrates this with dice games and simple thought experiments, showing that an asset with a negative average return can still raise a portfolio's long-run growth if it pays off strongly at exactly the moments the rest of the portfolio is collapsing. The idea is closely related to
ergodicity, the gap between what happens on average across many investors and what happens to a single investor over time.
From there he attacks the standard tools. Bonds, gold and hedge funds, in his account, usually provide too little protection in a crash to justify the large allocations needed to matter, and so they drag down returns in normal years more than they help in bad ones. He is just as harsh about many of the products now sold under the tail-risk label. Business Insider reported that he calls most of them a cure worse than the disease, because a strategy that makes money in a crash but costs more the rest of the time still lowers the investor's wealth. In the same interview he argued that the investment profession had chosen risk-adjusted returns as its scoreboard because it was easy to win on, when the scoreboard that matters is actual compound returns.
Diversification is a confession that you don't care about cost-effectiveness in your risk mitigation. You want less risk, no matter the cost.
— Mark Spitznagel, Safe Haven, 2021
The practical form of the argument appeared in a 2018 Wall Street Journal report, which said a portfolio holding just 3.3 percent in Universa and the rest passively in the S&P 500 had compounded at 12.3 percent a year over the ten years to February 2018, better than the index alone or portfolios with more traditional hedges. Business Insider later reported that an Ernst & Young audit letter put Universa's average annual return on invested capital at 105.2 percent from 2008 through 2019. The point was that a small, highly
convex position could let the rest of the portfolio stay fully invested in stocks, a version of the
barbell strategy Taleb had long advocated.
The Critics
Spitznagel's claims have drawn sustained criticism, much of it from serious investors.
The first line of criticism is about cost. In April and July 2020, AQR Capital Management, the quantitative firm co-founded by Cliff Asness, published research arguing that systematic put-buying is an expensive way to protect a portfolio and that alternatives such as trend-following have historically done better. Taleb responded angrily on social media, and The Economist covered the ensuing exchange between Taleb and Asness as a debate over whether options insurance belongs in equity portfolios at all. Other analysts, including one writing in Advisor Perspectives, argued that the AQR studies did not model Universa's actual approach. The disagreement has never been settled, partly because the key episodes are rare and the track records short.
The second line is about how Universa reports its results. In April 2023 Bloomberg's Justina Lee described the firm's use of returns on required invested capital as a flashpoint. Boaz Weinstein, founder of Saba Capital and himself a tail-risk investor, publicly challenged Universa to name another fund that reported returns on premiums spent over some interval rather than on assets. Derek Kaufman, formerly Citadel's global head of fixed income, said on social media that none of what Universa was saying made sense. Bloomberg noted that a 3,612 percent return on Universa's roughly $6 billion in stated assets, read the conventional way, would have implied a windfall of more than $200 billion, which is not what happened. Universa's position is that ordinary return measures do not capture what insurance is worth to a whole portfolio.
The third line is about forecasting. Spitznagel is a frequent public voice on the dangers of debt and central bank policy. In early 2023, Bloomberg noted, he warned of the greatest tinderbox-timebomb in financial history, and he told Fortune later that year that markets were in the greatest credit bubble in human history. Critics point out that such warnings have been a constant of his public commentary. Spitznagel, for his part, has said he claims no edge in predicting when a crash will come. Business Insider reported in 2021 that he thinks forecasting should not be part of investing at all.
The Goat Farm
Away from markets, Spitznagel has spent more than a decade on a very different project. In 2010 he and his wife, Amy, bought a run-down property in northern Michigan with a 170-year-old barn, according to Business Insider, and turned it into Idyll Farms, a dairy that raises Alpine goats on pasture and makes chèvre. By the time Business Insider visited in 2021, the farm covered more than 600 acres and kept 300 to 500 goats. Spitznagel told the publication he did not want the credit, which he said belonged to Amy, the farm manager and head cheesemaker Melissa Hiles, and the farm's workers. A Bloomberg Pursuits article in 2017 said the farm was making some of the best goat cheese in America.
The farm fits his ideas more closely than it might first appear. In the same interview he argued that industrial agriculture, like modern finance, looks efficient but is fragile because it depends on government support, citing subsidies for grain, fertilizer, herbicides and cheap oil. Pasture-raised animals and managed grazing, in his view, build soil and health slowly in a way that large corporations seeking immediate results cannot. Forbes titled its 2020 profile "How A Goat Farmer Built A Doomsday Machine," and the phrase stuck.
An Unfinished Argument
More than a quarter century after Empirica, Spitznagel's central idea is both vindicated and unresolved. The crashes of 2008 and 2020 showed that cheap, far out-of-the-money protection could produce enormous payoffs at exactly the moment investors needed cash. The CalPERS episode showed how hard it is for even sophisticated institutions to keep paying for protection through long calm periods. The disputes over how Universa reports its returns and the AQR research show that the question of whether the insurance pays for itself over a full cycle is still argued by capable people on both sides.
What is clear is the consistency of the principle he took from Klipp. Every part of his career, from the bond pit to the books to the farm, turns on the same trade: accept small, visible, frequent losses to avoid the rare catastrophic one and to be ready for the opportunity it creates. Whether that is wisdom or an expensive habit depends, as he would say, on which kind of average you use.