Track 4 · The House · lesson 5
How an insurer makes money
12 min
Track 4 · The House · lesson 5
12 min
Ten thousand households each pay 400 a year to insure a home worth 300,000. Four million comes in. In an ordinary year eleven houses burn, flood or fall down, and about 2.4 million goes out.
That is the whole product, and the arithmetic is not the clever part. The clever part is that eleven is knowable and which eleven is not.
Insurance is a genuine transfer of risk, and it is one of the few financial products that does something no individual can do alone.
A one-in-nine-hundred chance of losing 300,000 is unbearable — not because the expected cost is high, but because you only get one house and one attempt. Paying 400 a year converts an event that would end you into a line in a budget.
The insurer can bear it because it holds nine hundred of those risks and the average of nine hundred is far more predictable than any one of them. Nothing has been conjured. The variance was pooled, and pooling is a real service.
Everything about underwriting performance compresses into two numbers, both expressed as a share of premiums.
The loss ratio is claims divided by premiums. What share of what came in went straight back out to policyholders.
The expense ratio is everything else it costs to write the business: commission to brokers, staff, claims handling, advertising, the software.
Add them and you get the combined ratio. Below 100, the insurer made money purely on the insurance. Above 100, the insurance itself lost money.
Predict
The model below has the investment side deliberately switched off. Returns are pinned at zero, so what you are looking at is the insurance business and nothing else. Only the two ratios move.
Insurance float
Hypothetical model, not a forecast
Premiums in, claims and expenses out, and the money held in between put to work.
It assumes
It ignores
The combined ratio starts at 93 and the insurer is comfortably profitable. Move the two ratios until the combined ratio is above 100 — and see how small a change it takes.
Commission, administration and everything else it costs to write the business.
| Year | Premiums | Claims | Underwriting result |
|---|---|---|---|
| 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 |
| 1 | 1M | 600k | 70k |
| 2 | 1M | 618k | 72.1k |
| 3 | 1.1M | 637k | 74.3k |
| 4 | 1.1M | 656k | 76.5k |
| 5 | 1.1M | 675k | 78.8k |
| 6 | 1.2M | 696k | 81.1k |
| 7 | 1.2M | 716k | 83.6k |
| 8 | 1.2M | 738k | 86.1k |
| 9 | 1.3M | 760k | 88.7k |
| 10 | 1.3M | 783k | 91.3k |
Not there yet — keep moving the controls.
Seven points. A wet winter, a rise in the cost of repairs, one competitor pricing aggressively enough that you have to follow — any of those is worth seven points.
This is why insurance is not a business you can win by being slightly better at pricing. The margin between comfortable and loss-making is narrower than the year-to-year noise, and the noise is weather.
Two things follow, and they explain most insurer behaviour that looks strange from outside.
The industry moves in cycles. Losses lead to higher prices, higher prices attract capital, capital competes prices down, prices fall until losses return. Nobody coordinates this and everybody complains about it.
And an insurer's most valuable skill is not selling. It is knowing which risks to refuse, and pricing the ones it accepts by category accurately enough that the customers it wins are not exclusively the ones everyone else priced correctly.
Check
Who pays. Every policyholder, every year. The overwhelming majority of them pay for decades and claim nothing, which is not a failure of the product — it is the product.
Who benefits. The eleven households whose house burned down, who are made whole. Everyone else, who gets to sleep. And the insurer, on a thin and cyclical margin.
Who carries the risk. Formally, the insurer. In the tail, the reinsurer behind it, and behind them the capital markets, and in the largest catastrophes, the state. Risk is not destroyed by insurance. It is moved, sliced and moved again, and the question worth asking of any insurance arrangement is where it finally comes to rest.