# Why banks hold capital and fear runs
On March 9, 2023, customers of Silicon Valley Bank tried to withdraw roughly $42 billion in a single day. That is about a quarter of the bank's total deposits, gone in hours. By the next morning, regulators had seized the bank. It was the second-largest bank failure in US history at the time.
SVB was not a shady operation. It banked half of all US venture-backed startups. So how does a well-known bank die in 48 hours? The answer runs through three ideas every banker must understand: capital, liquidity, and deposit insurance.
A bank has two very different ways to fail. Confusing them is the single most common mistake non-specialists make.
Insolvency means your assets are worth less than what you owe. You are broke on paper.
Illiquidity means you cannot pay depositors *right now*, even if your assets are technically worth enough. You are broke on timing.
Capital protects against the first. Liquidity protects against the second. SVB had problems with both, and they fed each other.
Capital is the cushion between what a bank owns (assets) and what it owes to depositors and lenders (liabilities). It is mostly shareholder money, not borrowed money. Think of it as the bank's own skin in the game.
Here is the intuition. A bank takes $100 in deposits and makes $100 in loans. If just $3 of those loans go bad, the bank now owes $100 but owns $97. It cannot repay everyone. Depositors lose money.
Capital absorbs losses before depositors do. That is the entire point.
After banks blew up worldwide in 2008, regulators tightened the rules under a framework called Basel III, named after the Swiss city where the standard-setting committee meets. You do not need every detail, but two ratios matter.
The Common Equity Tier 1 (CET1) ratio compares a bank's highest-quality capital (mostly common shares and retained earnings) to its risk-weighted assets. Risk weighting means a safe government bond counts for little, while a risky corporate loan counts for a lot. A mortgage sits somewhere in between.
The formula is simple:
CET1 ratio = Common Equity Tier 1 capital / Risk-weighted assetsBasel sets a minimum CET1 ratio of 4.5 percent, but with mandatory buffers layered on top, real-world banks are typically expected to hold well above 7 percent, and large banks considerably more.
The Leverage ratio is a cruder backstop. It compares capital to *total* assets with no risk weighting, so banks cannot game the system by claiming everything they own is low-risk.
You can read the framework directly at the Bank for International Settlements, the body that publishes Basel standards.
Here is the twist. On paper, SVB looked well-capitalized by these ratios. Its downfall came from a rule about *which* losses count.
SVB had parked huge sums in long-term US government bonds. These are considered ultra-safe from a credit standpoint: the US government pays its debts. So they carried low risk weights.
But when the Federal Reserve raised interest rates sharply through 2022, the market value of those older, lower-yielding bonds fell. This is basic bond math: when new bonds pay more, older bonds paying less are worth less.
Under accounting rules, some of these bonds were classified as held-to-maturity, meaning the paper losses did not have to be reflected in reported capital as long as the bank intended to hold them to the end. The losses were real, but hidden in a footnote. SVB's capital looked healthier than its economic reality.
Capital is a slow problem. Liquidity is a fast one. SVB died of a liquidity crisis.
Liquidity is the ability to turn assets into cash quickly without a fire-sale loss. Basel introduced two liquidity rules after 2008:
The Liquidity Coverage Ratio (LCR) requires a bank to hold enough high-quality liquid assets to survive 30 days of heavy outflows.
The Net Stable Funding Ratio (NSFR) pushes banks to fund long-term assets with stable, long-term funding rather than money that can vanish overnight.
Watch how the pieces connected.
1. SVB needed cash to meet deposit withdrawals as startups burned through funding.
2. To raise cash, it had to actually *sell* some of those underwater bonds, turning paper losses into real, recognized losses.
3. It announced a plan to sell stock to plug the resulting capital hole.
4. That announcement told everyone the losses were real. Fear spread.
SVB had an unusually concentrated depositor base: tech founders and venture capitalists, tightly connected, watching the same news, using the same messaging apps. When a few respected investors told portfolio companies to pull their money, the message spread in minutes.
A run that once took days of people lining up at branches now happens at the speed of a smartphone transfer. This is what some call the first Twitter-and-smartphone bank run.
Vérification des acquis
1. A bank's assets are technically worth more than its liabilities, but it cannot meet a sudden wave of depositor withdrawals today. Which condition best describes this situation?
2. What is the fundamental purpose of a bank holding capital?
3. A bank funds itself with $100 of deposits plus $8 of shareholder capital, lending out the total. If $8 of its loans become worthless, what is the most accurate consequence?
4. Select ALL correct answers about the distinction between insolvency and illiquidity.
Sélectionnez toutes les réponses correctes.
5. Select ALL correct answers about bank capital.
Sélectionnez toutes les réponses correctes.
Why do bank runs happen at all? Because of a cruel logic. If you think a bank might fail, the rational move is to pull your money *first*, before the cash runs out. But if everyone thinks that way, the rush itself causes the failure. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Deposit insurance is designed to break that logic. In the US, the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC) guarantees deposits up to $250,000 per depositor, per bank. If your money is insured, you have no reason to panic. If you have no reason to panic, the run never starts.
Here is why insurance failed to stop the SVB run. An estimated 90 percent or more of SVB's deposits were *above* the $250,000 insurance cap.
That makes sense for a business bank. A startup with $20 million in the bank blows past a $250,000 limit instantly. Those depositors were not protected, so they had every reason to run, and they did.
In response, US regulators took an emergency step: they invoked a systemic risk exception and guaranteed *all* SVB deposits, insured or not, to stop the panic from spreading to other regional banks. This was controversial. It protected wealthy depositors and businesses, and critics argued it created moral hazard, the risk that people take bigger gambles when they expect a rescue.
The SVB story is not really about one bank's bad luck. It is a clean illustration of how the system is supposed to work, and where it strains.
Capital and liquidity are different defenses against different failures. A bank can be solvent and still die of thirst. SVB's reported capital ratios looked fine while its economic capital was quietly eroding and its liquidity was about to evaporate.
Rules always lag behind reality. Basel III was built after 2008, when runs meant physical queues. It did not fully price in how fast a concentrated, digitally connected depositor base could move. Regulators are still catching up to that speed.
For a deeper, readable post-mortem, the Federal Reserve published its own review of the supervision and regulation of Silicon Valley Bank, which is candid about what supervisors missed.