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Call it the dark side of the universe. Citigroup's retreat from Germany - selling its consumer unit there to France's Credit Mutuel for 4.9 billion euros on Friday - is the latest phase in chief executive Vikram Pandit's plan to shrink Citi's balance sheet, dump unprofitable client relationships and preserve liquidity following huge credit-related losses.
Citi's woes have caused much soul searching about the universal banking model, which runs the full gamut of retail and wholesale services across multiple regions.
UBS, similarly tarnished, has been under pressure from various quarters to break itself up.
By taking greater risks through their securities businesses, the argument goes, universal banks increase the likelihood of losses for their depositors, while complicating the task of central banks in their capacity as lenders of last resort. And their very size concentrates power and curbs competition.
There is some truth in all of that. But the universal model is not the real culprit. During the US banking crisis of the 1930s, for example, advocates of reform blamed losses on the reckless behaviour of securities affiliates of the commercial banks: hence the Glass-Steagall Act of 1933 - repealed in 1999 - which enshrined the legal separation of commercial and investment banking.
Subsequent studies of the period, however, have shown that institutions without securities arms had a much greater tendency to fail than those that had them.
The origins of the crisis were actually to be found in lax lending practices, sloppy internal controls and inadequate supervision of the banking industry in general.
A similar picture is emerging from the current credit crunch where, so far, the casualties have been spread pretty evenly across brokers, mortgage houses, hedge funds and state-backed wholesale banks.
Like Sandy Weill and Chuck Prince before him, Pandit is defiant in his defence of one-stop shopping. History is on his side. Big, global companies need big, global banks. The problem is in the management of the model, not the model itself.
Naughty Norilsk
Those worried about the quality of some of the newer members of the London Stock Exchange will be highlighting recent shenanigans at Norilsk Nickel.
The Russian mining company is in the midst of a tussle for control between two of the country's richest oligarchs. In the process, minority investors are being trampled underfoot, in keeping with the already-weak reputation of corporate governance in Russia.
Norilsk is now writing the book on how not to run a company. Last week, shareholders were asked to vote on a new nine-person board.
Compatriot miner Rusal, which recently acquired 25 per cent of Norilsk, received three seats, as expected. So did Interros, the vehicle controlled by one of Norilsk's modern founders, Vladimir Potanin, which owns slightly less. The other three positions went to independents.
Or so some minority shareholders thought when they cast their votes. It turns out that one, and more than likely two, of the independent board members may be less independent than they appeared.
Either way, Potanin had plenty of firepower at the first board meeting on Monday. He first anointed himself the new (very non-independent) chairman. Then the well respected chief executive, Denis Morozov, was shown the door - replaced by one of Potanin's men.
Rusal is understandably angry. It wants to merge with Norilsk to create a mining national champion. That is impossible with Potanin in control.
If Rusal can rustle up enough votes, it will push to increase the board to 13 members in the hope of diluting Potanin. Lawyers are also sharpening their pencils.
Minority investors have to step up and at least try to put more independent members on the board, not least because Norilsk's share price has not taken this hit to good governance well. Longer term, the risk is that London becomes more wary of foreign company listings.
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