THE FUND

An unsettling exposé of a leading investment fund.

As Copeland writes, during his time at the company’s helm, Ray Dalio (b. 1949), founder of Bridgewater Associates, “was said to have prodigious skill at spotting, and making money from, big-picture global economic or political changes, such as when a country would raise its interest rate or cut taxes.” The dominant ethos was a near-religious belief in Dalio’s brilliance, a sentiment he reinforced by developing a series of edicts called “The Principles” and assorted mantras, such as “Pain + Reflection = Progress.” He was not at all shy, reportedly, of using abusive language (“You’re a dumb shit!”) with employees not sufficiently steeped in these tenets or who otherwise displeased him. Bridgewater became a revolving door for hundreds of would-be brokers and traders who couldn’t stand the abuse, while its corporate culture spawned a system of accusation and self-criticism that Mao’s Red Guards might have admired: “When employees identified imperfections, they were directed to memorialize the moment in the ‘issue log,’ an internal registry visible to all that tracked all complaints large and small.” Employees, in the words of one manager, “have been speaking to me directly about being insecure in their jobs and a fear that any day they could be fired.” Interestingly, James Comey, later to become director of the FBI, was one of Dalio’s chief enforcers (for $7 million per year), even as employees were required to keep iPads containing The Principles with them at all times. In the end, the cultic distractions seem to have overcome the fundamentals, for, Copeland charges, Dalio’s chief legacy has been a “long streak of shaky investment performance” and a steady decline in his own prominence—even if he is still worth more than $15 billion.

A vivid portrait of soul-killing micromanagement in a ruthless corporate setting.