The Proposed Rules for Kalshi and Polymarket Are Backward

Michael Selig took over the Commodity Futures Trading Commission in December promising clear rules for prediction markets such as Kalshi Inc. and Polymarket. The indictment of a soldier betting on the Nicolas Maduro raid and two pitchers accused of rigging the pitches people wager on have sharpened questions about the utility of these markets and their vulnerability to insider trading.

What Selig’s agency proposed Wednesday was something else: A regime in which every contract listed is provisional. They trade on the exchange’s own say-so until the CFTC calls for a 90-day “public interest” review. The categories that trigger review — “gaming” chief among them — reach most of the industry’s volume. This is not a rule. It is a promise to make rules up later, one contract at a time.

The proposal gets the economics of prediction markets exactly backward. One public-interest factor asks “whether buyers and sellers have any basis to form a meaningful view” of the event. This is a polling criterion, not a market criterion: A poll is informative only if the typical respondent knows something; a market price is informative if anyone does. I need to know nothing about soccer to know a team is overpriced after watching its chartered flight divert at 2 a.m. — and the crowd betting on feelings is what pays the rare trader who knows something.

Yet the same proposal would ban mention markets, such as those betting on whether President Donald Trump mentions “250” in a speech, because insight is “highly concentrated — in a single individual,” and Little League contracts because “broad and numerous groups of individuals would potentially have inside information.” Too concentrated: banned. Too dispersed: banned. Whatever the distribution of information, some factor condemns it. A test that can reject anything isn’t a standard, it’s a docket.

Markets publish what insiders know. When Morton Thiokol Inc.’s stock collapsed soon after the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded in 1986 — before any investigation named the company’s O-rings — the market wasn’t committing a crime.