Independence Gaze

A week from today the nation will celebrate Independence Day—though of course independence didn’t actually occur on July 4.

Let’s face it, the Declaration of Independence[i] was little more than that—a declaration. One that had yet to be backed by anything beyond the artfully crafted and narrow consensus of a handful of delegates appointed by a wide variety of means and mechanisms, with correspondingly disparate levels of responsibility and accountability for their alignment with the principles outlined in that document. 

As practically meaningless as that declaration might have been, we commemorate and celebrate those actions because, eventually, events transpired that made those aspirations a reality. But it came only after years of hard-fought fighting, and while we don’t often talk about this, it ultimately divided the nation between those who wanted to be free from what they viewed as tyranny—and those who viewed those actions and aspirations as nothing less than treason.

That said, the deliberations that produced that declaration are in many ways emblematic for how groups—including retirement plan committees—move forward—though it’s important to keep these things in mind:

Inertia is a powerful force.

By the time the Second Continental Congress convened, the “shot heard round the world” had already been fired at Lexington, but many of the representatives in Philadelphia still held out hope for some kind of peaceful reconciliation. Little wonder that, even in the midst of hostilities, there was a strong inclination on the part of several key individuals to put things back the way they had been, to patch them over, rather than to take on the world’s most accomplished military force (not to mention putting their own lives and fortunes at risk).

Indeed, as human beings we are largely predisposed to leave things the way they are, rather than making abrupt and dramatic change. Whether this “inertia” comes from a fear of the unknown, a certain laziness about the extra work that might be required, or a fear that advocating change suggests an admission that there was something “wrong” before, it seems fair to say that plan fiduciaries are, generally speaking, and in the absence of a compelling reason for change, inclined to rationalize staying put.

Little wonder that we often see new fund options added, while old and unsatisfactory funds linger on the plan menu, a general hesitation to undertake an evaluation of long-standing providers in the absence of severe service problems, and a reluctance to adopt potentially disruptive (and, admittedly, sometimes expensive) plan features like automatic enrollment, deferral acceleration, or more recently—retirement income.

While many of the delegates to the Constitutional Convention were restricted by the entities that appointed them in terms of how they could vote on the issues presented, plan fiduciaries are bound by a higher obligation—that their decisions be made solely in the best interests of plan participants and their beneficiaries—regardless of any other organizational or personal obligations they may have outside their committee role.

Consensus can be hard to achieve.

The Second Continental Congress was comprised of representatives from what amounted to 13 different governments, with delegates selected by processes ranging from extralegal conventions, ad hoc committees, to elected assemblies—with varying degrees of voting authority granted to them, to boot. Needless to say, that made reaching consensus even more complicated than under “ordinary” circumstances.

Today the process of putting together an investment or plan committee runs the gamut—everything from simply extrapolating roles from an organization chart to a random assortment of individuals to a thoughtful consideration of individuals and their qualifications to act as a plan fiduciary. But if you want a good result, you need to have the right individuals—and they should be aligned around a singular purpose—decisions made with the exclusive purpose of the best interests of plan participants and beneficiaries.

It’s important to put it in writing.

Before the delegates at the Second Continental Congress were united in purpose, there was a sense by those favoring independence that putting those thoughts in writing would help crystalize, as well as formalize, that proposition. And while the Declaration of Independence technically had no legal effect, putting that declaration—and the sentiments expressed—in writing gave it a force and influence far beyond its original purpose. It also provided a focus for the debate and discussion of those delegates—and an opportunity to tweak and shape those thoughts to be in alignment with the whole group.

There is an old ERISA adage that says, “Prudence is process.” However, an updated version of that adage might be “prudence is process—but only if you can prove it.” To that end, a written record of the activities of plan committee(s) is an essential ingredient not only in validating the results, but also the thought process behind those deliberations (not to mention that there WAS a thought process behind those deliberations). More significantly, those minutes can provide committee members—both past and future—with a sense of the environment at the time decisions were made, the alternatives presented and the rationale offered for each, as well as what those decisions were. 

Those might not serve to inspire future generations—but they can be an invaluable tool in (re)assessing those decisions at the appropriate time(s) in the future and making adjustments as warranted—properly documented, of course.

You can delegate authority—but not responsibility.

When it came to drafting the declaration itself, there was an acknowledgement that some delegates were better writers than others. But while the primary responsibility for the draft fell to Thomas Jefferson, he was teamed with several other key individuals to help assure that the draft took into account the sensibilities of the entire delegation—and even then, when presented there were additional edits.

Ultimately, however, the responsibility for the declaration fell to all the delegates. As Ben Franklin is said to have commented just before signing the Declaration, “We must, indeed, all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.”

It’s not quite that serious for ERISA plan fiduciaries. However, there is the matter of personal liability—not only for your actions, but for those of your fellow fiduciaries—and thus, you might be required to restore any losses to the plan or to restore any profits gained through improper use of plan assets. So, it’s a good idea not only to know who your co-fiduciaries are—but to keep an eye on what they do, and are not only permitted, but expected, to do.

Actions can speak louder than words.

As dramatic and inspiring as the words of the Declaration of Independence surely were (and are), if they never got beyond the document in which they appeared, it’s unlikely we’d be talking about them today. Indeed, it’s likely that, without the actions committed to in that Declaration, their signatures on the document would have only ensured that they wound up on the gallows, rather than the history books.

Anyone who has ever had a grand idea shackled to the deliberations of a moribund committee, or who has had to kowtow to the sensibilities of a recalcitrant compliance department, can empathize with the process that ultimately produced the Declaration of Independence we’ll commemorate next week.

Yes, Independence Day is a great opportunity to reflect and recall that our actions have consequence(s)—and that while plan committee meetings and deliberations may sometimes seem like little more than obligatory (and tedious) reviews of arcane information, it’s worth remembering that those decisions affect people’s lives—and, ultimately, their financial independence.