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Matt Levine is a Bloomberg View
columnist. He was an editor of Dealbreaker, an investment banker
at Goldman Sachs, a mergers and acquisitions lawyer at Wachtell,
Lipton, Rosen & Katz and a clerk for the U.S. Court of Appeals
for the Third Circuit.
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Should Courts Care Who Wins in a Merger?
By
Matt Levine
February 27, 2018 10:07 AM
Appraisal.
We
talked last week about appraisal arbitrage, the strategy in which
hedge funds buy stock in companies that have announced mergers, vote
against the mergers, and then sue in Delaware court to get a court to
give them the fair value of their stock. Often, in the not-too-distant
past, the court calculated a fair value that was a lot higher than the
deal price, and so this strategy could be very profitable. But then
Delaware Vice Chancellor Travis Laster issued a shocking shrug of an
opinion in the appraisal litigation over Hewlett-Packard Co.'s
acquisition of Aruba Networks Inc., figuring that the stock market
knew how to value Aruba, and that it had valued Aruba at $17.13 per
share, so he was going to use that value as the amount to award in the
appraisal. That was the value that the stock market gave to
Aruba before the deal, meaning that the appraisal arbitrage funds will
get paid much less than the $24.67 deal price. The logic of the
opinion is that any premium that HP paid beyond the stock's trading
price must have had to do with something that HP brought to the table
-- synergies, "reducing agency costs" -- and so wasn't part of Aruba's
stand-alone value; that stand-alone value was best estimated by its
trading price.
It is a shocking injection of efficient-markets-hypothesis
fundamentalism into a process that is, after all,
entirely about distrust of market efficiency: If markets were
efficient then you'd never need appraisal. It's so strange that no
one quite believes it, and several people who follow appraisal closely
have suggested to me a sort of
Straussian reading of Laster's opinion: Last year the Delaware
Supreme Court
reversed his
decision awarding more money to appraisal plaintiffs in the Dell
Inc. buyout, finding that he had relied too much on his own
discounted-cash-flow math and not enough on the evidence of the
market, and that the conflicts of interest he found in the Dell buyout
were not enough to sway the price. His Aruba opinion is so extreme a
swing the other way -- relying solely on the evidence, not even of the
takeover market, but of the stock market, and finding conflicts of
interest only to ignore them because they didn't affect Aruba's
stand-alone value -- that it almost seems like his goal in this
opinion might be to embarrass the Supreme Court into reversing him
again and admitting that markets aren't that efficient.
I am not used to the idea of reading judicial decisions as sarcasm,
but maybe that's how you should take this one. Still I ... think he
is ... kind of right? When a public company buys another public
company for cash in an arm's-length deal, with no disclosure or
liquidity or conflict-of-interest problems, it does sort of seem like
the unaffected stock price of the target is the best starting point
for its appraised value. You'd expect at least a lot of the premium in
the deal to come from synergies -- from the fact that the two
companies can cut costs or cross-sell when they're combined into one
-- which are not part of the appraised value. Of course some companies
are worth more than their stock price and others are worth less, but
in general the stock price is a better indicator of value than some
after-the-fact discounted cash flow models built by a judge in
Delaware, particularly if those DCF models always result in a
higher valuation.
But if this really is the rule then of course there will be many fewer
appraisal lawsuits: Hedge funds used to figure their worst likely case
in appraisal litigation was to get the deal price (plus
above-market interest), while their best case was to get some
extra money, so it was a popular strategy. Now the worst case -- and
maybe the most likely case! -- is to get much less than the deal
price. At least in arm's-length public-company mergers, you'd expect
fewer appraisal lawsuits.
If you think -- as many people do -- that appraisal lawsuits are an
effective check on underpriced acquisitions, that they keep buyers
honest and force them to pay fair premiums to avoid being hit with big
appraisal awards, then you might think this is bad. Without the threat
of appraisal litigation, buyers won't feel the need to pay up as much,
and deal premiums will drop.
This will be bad for shareholders in merger targets: They want big
premiums, and without the threat of appraisal litigation they will get
smaller premiums. On the other hand, it will be good for shareholders
of the acquiring companies, who won't have to pay as much to get deals
done.
Here is my speculative reading of Aruba: This is the decision you
would expect in a world of diversified index and
quasi-index investors. If everyone owns all the companies,
then who cares what the deal premium is? Who cares how the value of
synergies is allocated between buyer shareholders and target
shareholders? If they are the same shareholders then the point is
to create the synergies, to do the deals; the shareholders care about
growing the size of the pie, not fighting over its allocation.
A lot of thinking, and law, in corporate America comes from a time
when shareholders weren't expected to be all that diversified. You
bought Amalgamated Widgets stock, and you wanted Amalgamated to do
well. You didn't care about Consolidated Thingamajigs; if anything,
you wanted them to fail so that Amalgamated could expand its market
share. And if Consolidated mounted a takeover bid for Amalgamated,
you'd want Amalgamated to demand the highest possible premium for your
shares: If there are going to be synergies from combining the two
companies, you wanted to get paid for them, rather than just letting
them accrue to Consolidated shareholders.
But now everyone owns both stocks and much of that imperative has just
gone away. We
talk a
lot around here about the notion that the rise of large
diversified institutional investors might reduce competition, because
if every company in an industry is owned by the same shareholders then
they have less reason to try to take market share from each other.
Nobody quite believes in the mechanism by which this would happen. But
it's easier to picture in the mergers-and-acquisitions context.
Consolidated mounts a bid for Amalgamated, Amalgamated's managers put
up a big fight and make a lot of noise about how the bid undervalues
their company, and their large overlapping shareholder base quietly
says: Look, there is value to be had -- in synergies, in pure
market-dominating bigness -- in combining these companies, so let's
just have it. Don't worry about whether it accrues mostly to target
shareholders or acquirer shareholders, because they are the same
shareholders.
In that world you would expect the courts to eventually shrug and say,
you know what, in arm's-length deals between public companies, we're
just going to effectively get rid of appraisal rights. The way to
protect the value of your shares in public-company mergers is not
appraisal; it's diversification. (This does not work as well in
private-equity deals, of course, but it's fine for public-to-public
mergers.)
Obviously you don't have to like this! The people who think
that common ownership reduces competition think that competition is
good and that common ownership is suspect. They should also
worry if common ownership makes mergers easier. And Matthew Schoenfeld
wrote about appraisal litigation (before
Aruba):
In addition to lower deal premia and higher agency costs, the
primary effects of Delaware’s post-2015 effort to dull
shareholder defenses, culminating in Dell, will likely be: 1)
faster CEO pay growth, and 2) more M&A and higher
industry-specific measures of concentration, which research has
shown to contribute to declining competition, lower levels of
labor market mobility, wage stagnation, and increasing
inequality in the United States. |
But I think if you look narrowly at the purposes of corporate law,
it makes a kind of sense. Corporate managers are supposed to serve the
interests of their shareholders. The approaches, and thus the
interests, of those shareholders have changed. You'd expect corporate
behavior, and corporate law, to change with them.
♦ ♦ ♦
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Matt Levine at
mlevine51@bloomberg.net
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