Matthias Doepke & Fabrizio Zilibotti: The economics of motherhood

EconomicsIn times of heightened economic anxiety, for many American families the celebration of Mother’s Day this weekend will provide a welcome respite from the stress of everyday life. At least for this one day, love and the close bond between mothers and their children take center stage, and worries about money, careers, and other economic concerns are put on hold. Indeed, one reason that there is a special celebration for mothers is precisely that motherhood lacks the formal recognition that the market economy bestows on other activities: mothers do not draw official salaries, acquire fancy job titles, or advance within a corporate hierarchy. Instead, motherhood is an unpaid “labor of love,” and hence a phenomenon where the laws of economics seemingly do not apply.

Yet on closer inspection, even motherhood does have an undeniable economic dimension. To start, there is the economic impact of the celebration of Mother’s Day itself. Florists, greeting card companies, and restaurants serving brunch will do brisk business, and many consider the holiday at risk of becoming overly commercialized.

But the economic roots of motherhood go much deeper than that. Economic forces helped shape the role of motherhood in society, and are in large part responsible for two major transformations in how Western society conceives of the meaning and importance of motherhood.

The first of these transformations started with the Industrial Revolution, and continued throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Mothers always had a special role in nurturing children, particularly so for the infants who needed to be breastfed. However, in earlier times the separation between the roles of mothers and fathers was less sharp than later on. Work and home life played out in the same place, say, the family’s farm or artisanal workshop, and children grew up in close proximity to both parents and other family members. Children also started to work from a young age, so that especially boys soon spent more time with their fathers than their mothers.

The Industrial Revolution sharpened the division between mothers’ and fathers’ roles in the family. The introduction of factories and the rise of commuting that followed the spread of railways and streetcars separated the work and home spheres. While men were pushed into the role of exclusive economic provider, women were expected to focus on the home. In addition, as the industrial economy created demand for workers who could read and write, providing children with a proper education became an important aim for most families, and the responsibility for this fell squarely on the mothers. The result was what historians term the “Cult of Domesticity,” a new value system that emphasized the role of women as mothers and educators and discouraged working outside the home.

While motherhood was idolized, mothers were also pushed out of the labor force. In addition to the new cultural norms against working mothers, outright discrimination such as the “marriage bars” that excluded married women from many professions also contributed to defining women more exclusively through their role as mothers. By the early twentieth century, it had become rare for married women with children to be working. It was in this era of idealized motherhood but also strictly separated roles for women and men that the current incarnation of the Mother’s Day holiday in the United States was created.

The second economic transformation of motherhood started with World War II and is still ongoing today. During the war, millions of mothers joined the labor force to support the war effort while the men were fighting overseas. The women of this “Rosie the Riveter” generation demonstrated that women’s contributions do not have to be limited to the home, and many of them found enjoyment and fulfillment in being in the labor force and gaining more independence.

After the war, the traditional division of labor was reestablished to some extent. But over time, more and more women decided to continue working even after marrying and having children, and by today most women, and most mothers, are in the labor force.

In large part, this transformation in the labor market was driven by technological change. Over time, the economy shifted from agriculture and manufacturing to services, eroding men’s traditional advantage in work that rewarded physical strength. Technological change also transformed the household: modern household appliances and market alternatives to home-produced goods such as day care centers and restaurants have reduced the time required to run the household and freed up time for work.

Today, motherhood is no longer defined exclusively through caring for children, but much more so through the “having it all” challenge of combining careers and family life. Nevertheless, the impact of the older role models and cultural norms can still be felt. Notably, time use data show that women continue to bear a disproportionate share of child care work and household chores.

Hence, despite the transformed meaning of motherhood in society, there are still good reasons for a special celebration of mothers. In addition to buying flowers and chocolates, men could do even better by expressing their gratitude through putting in equal time in child care and household chores, and not just on holidays.

By familiarizing themselves with the dishwasher, diapers, and their children’s clothing needs, men could prove to be truly ahead of their time. Economic trends will continue to shape the meaning of motherhood, and fatherhood, for the next generation. Women now graduate in much larger numbers from college than men do, and in today’s knowledge economy that gives them an advantage. Women will soon be the main earners in a large fraction of families. Over time, cultural norms will adjust to this change. The current model of mothers doing most of the household work in exchange for a once-a-year celebration will gradually fade into memory, which is something to look forward to this Mother’s Day.

Matthias Doepke is professor of economics at Northwestern University. He lives in Evanston, Illinois. Fabrizio Zilibotti is the Tuntex Professor of International and Development Economics at Yale University. He lives in New Haven, Connecticut. Their new book, Love, Money, and Parenting: How Economics Explains the Way We Raise Our Kids is forthcoming from Princeton University Press in February 2019. 

Exploring the Black Experience through Economics

For hundreds of years, the American and global economies have been built on the backs of Black people. In each era, new forms of marginalization—enslavement, segregation, exclusion—have been devised to limit Black economic success. Still, Black dreams and Black resilience have created space for Black people’s hard-won economic gains. As workers, scholars, migrants, and emissaries of empire, Black people have shaped the American and global economies in crucial ways.

From industrial migration to economic colonization, and from unfunded neighborhoods to elite business schools, these four books from PUP’s catalog highlight different aspects of Black Americans’ experiences at the center, the margins, and the cutting edge of the formal economy.

From 1940 to 1970, nearly four million black migrants left the American rural South to settle in the industrial cities of the North and West. Competition in the Promised Land provides a comprehensive account of the long-lasting effects of the influx of black workers on labor markets and urban space in receiving areas.

Employing historical census data and state-of-the-art econometric methods, Competition in the Promised Land revises our understanding of the Great Black Migration and its role in the transformation of American society.

In 1901, the Tuskegee Institute, founded by Booker T. Washington, sent an expedition to the German colony of Togo in West Africa, with the purpose of transforming the region into a cotton economy similar to that of the post-Reconstruction American South. Alabama in Africa explores the politics of labor, sexuality, and race behind this endeavor, and the economic, political, and intellectual links connecting Germany, Africa, and the southern United States. The cross-fertilization of histories and practices led to the emergence of a global South, reproduced social inequities on both sides of the Atlantic, and pushed the American South and the German Empire to the forefront of modern colonialism.

Tracking the intertwined histories of Europe, Africa, and the Americas at the turn of the century, Alabama in Africa shows how the politics and economics of the segregated American South significantly reshaped other areas of the world.

Baltimore was once a vibrant manufacturing town, but today, with factory closings and steady job loss since the 1970s, it is home to some of the most impoverished neighborhoods in America. The Hero’s Fight provides an intimate look at the effects of deindustrialization on the lives of Baltimore’s urban poor, and sheds critical light on the unintended consequences of welfare policy on our most vulnerable communities.

Blending compelling portraits with in-depth scholarly analysis, The Hero’s Fight explores how the welfare state contributes to the perpetuation of urban poverty in America.

For nearly three decades, English has been the lingua franca of cross-border organizations, yet studies on corporate language strategies and their importance for globalization have been scarce. In The Language of Global Success, Tsedal Neeley provides an in-depth look at a single organization—the high-tech giant Rakuten—in the five years following its English lingua franca mandate. Neeley’s behind-the-scenes account explores how language shapes the ways in which employees who work in global organizations communicate and negotiate linguistic and cultural differences.

Examining the strategic use of language by one international corporation, The Language of Global Success uncovers how all organizations might integrate language effectively to tap into the promise of globalization.

Tim Rogan: What’s Wrong with the Critique of Capitalism Now

RoganWhat’s wrong with capitalism? Answers to that question today focus on material inequality. Led by economists and conducted in utilitarian terms, the critique of capitalism in the twenty-first century is primarily concerned with disparities in income and wealth. It was not always so. In The Moral Economists, Tim Rogan reconstructs another critical tradition, developed across the twentieth century in Britain, in which material deprivation was less important than moral or spiritual desolation. Examining the moral cornerstones of a twentieth-century critique of capitalism, The Moral Economists explains why this critique fell into disuse, and how it might be reformulated for the twenty-first century. Read on to learn more about these moral economists and their critiques of capitalism.

You begin by asking, ‘What’s wrong with capitalism?’ Shouldn’t we start by acknowledging capitalism’s great benefits?

Yes, absolutely. This was a plan for the reform of capitalism, not a prayer for its collapse or a pitch for its overthrow. These moral economists sought in some sense to save capitalism from certain of its enthusiasts—that has always been the project of the socialist tradition out of which these writers emerged. But our question about capitalism—as about every aspect of our social system, every means by which we reconcile individual preferences to arrive at collective decisions—should always be ‘What’s wrong with this?;’ ‘How can we improve this?;’ ‘What could we do better?’ And precisely how we ask those questions, the terms in which we conduct those debates, matters. My argument in this book is that our way of asking the question ‘What’s wrong with capitalism?’ has become too narrow, too focused on material inequality, insufficiently interested in some of the deeper problems of liberty and solidarity which the statistics recording disparities of wealth and income conceal.

Was this critique of capitalism also a critique of economics, and if so what do these critics add to the usual complaints against economics—about unrealistic assumptions, otherworldly models, indifference to historical developments such as financial crises, etc?

Yes, the moral economists were critical of economics. But although their criticisms might sound like variations on the familiar charge that economists make unreal assumptions about the capacities and proclivities of individual human beings, the moral economists’ challenge to mainstream economics was different. The most influential innovators in economics since the Second World War have been behavioral scientists pointing out that our capacity to make utilitarian calculations is not as high as economists once took it to be. Part of what the success of this series of innovations is that the ideal of reducing every decision to a calculation of utility retains its allure, even as we come to realize how fallible our real-time calculations are. Behavioral economists have found our capacity to think like rational utilitarian agents wanting. But when did the capacity to think like a rational utilitarian agent become the measure of our humanity? This is the question moral economists have been asking since the 1920s. Initiated by historians determined to open up means of thinking outside economic orthodoxy, since joined by mathematically-trained economists concerned to get a more realistic handle on the relationship between individual values and social choice, the moral economists’ enterprise promises a far more profound reconstitution of political economy than behavioral economics has ever contemplated.

Doesn’t the profile of these writers—dead, male, English, or Anglophile, writing about a variety of capitalism long since superseded—limit their contemporary relevance?

No. Their main concern was to discover and render articulate forms of social solidarity which the dominant economic discourse concealed. They found these on the outskirts of ‘Red Vienna’, on railroads under construction in post-war Yugoslavia, but most of all in the north of England. They believed that these inarticulate solidarities were what really held the country together—the secret ingredients of the English constitution. Though they belonged to a tradition of social thought in Britain that was skeptical towards Empire and supportive of the push for self-determination in India and elsewhere, they raised the prospect that the same dynamics had developed in countries to which British institutions had been exported—explaining the relative cohesion of Indian and Ghanaian democracies, for instance. More broadly E. P. Thompson in particular argued that factoring these incipient solidarities into constitutional thinking generated a more nuanced understanding of the rule of law than nineteenth-century liberalism entailed: in Thompson’s hand the rule of law became a more tensile creed, more capable of accommodating the personal particularities of the law’s subjects, more adept at mitigating the rigors of rational system to effect justice in specific cases. The profiles of the late-twentieth century commentators who continue the critical tradition Tawney, Polanyi and Thompson developed—especially Amartya Sen—underscore that tradition’s wider relevance.

Aren’t these writers simply nostalgists wishing we could return to a simpler way of life?

No. Tawney especially is often seen as remembering a time of social cohesion before the Reformation and before the advent of international trade and wishing for its return. This perception misunderstands his purpose.

Religion and the Rise of Capitalism draws sharp contrasts between two distinct iterations of European society – the late medieval and the modern. But this was a means of dramatizing a disparity between different societies developing in contemporary England—the society he encountered working at Toynbee Hall in London’s East End, where social atomization left people demoralized beyond relief, on the one hand; the society he encountered when he moved to Manchester to teach in provincial towns in Lancashire and Staffordshire, where life under capitalism was different, where the displacement of older solidarities was offset by the generation of new forms of cohesion, where many people were poor but where the social fabric was still intact.

The demoralized East End was the product of laissez faire capitalism—of the attempt to organize society on the basis that each individual was self-sufficient, profit-minded, unaffected by other human sentiments. The political crisis into which Britain was pitched in the late Edwardian period underlined how untenable this settlement was: without a sense of what more than the appetite for wealth motivated people, there could be no ‘background of mutual understanding’ against which to resolve disputes. At the same time the answer was not simply stronger government, a bigger state. The latent solidarities Tawney discovered in the north of England carried new possibilities: the facility of market exchange and the security of an effective state could be supplemented by informal solidarities making everyday life more human than the impersonal mechanisms of market and government allowed.

Polanyi and Thompson brought their historical settings forward into the nineteenth century, making their writings feel more contemporary. But they were both engaged in much the same exercise as Tawney—using history to dramatize disparities between different possibilities developing within contemporary society. They too had come into contact with forms of solidarity indicating that there was more than calculations of utility and the logic of state power at work in fostering social order.  Polanyi and then especially Thompson advanced their common project significantly when he found a new terminology with which to describe these incipient solidarities. Tawney had talked of ‘tradition’ and ‘convention’ and ‘custom,’ and Polanyi had followed Tawney in this—refusing to associate himself with Ferdinand Tonnies concept of Gemeinschaft and Henry Maine’s system of ‘status’ when pressed to, but offering no cogent concept through which to reckon with these forms of solidarity himself. Thompson’s concept of the ‘moral economy’ made the kinds of solidarities upon which they had all focused more compelling.

Does subscribing to a moral critique of capitalism mean buying into one of the prescriptive belief systems out of which that critique materialized? Do you need to believe in God or Karl Marx in order to advance a moral critique of capitalism without embarrassment?

No. Part of the reason that this critique of capitalism went out of commission was because the belief systems which underpinned it—which, more specifically, provided the conceptions of what a person is which falsified reductive concepts of ‘economic man’—went into decline. Neither Tawney nor Thompson was able to adapt to the attenuation of Christian belief and Marxian conviction respectively from which their iterations of the critique had drawn strength. Polanyi’s case was different: he was able to move beyond both God and Marx, envisaging a basis upon which a moral critique of capitalism could be sustained without relying on either belief system. That basis was furnished by the writings of Adam Smith, which adumbrated an account of political economy which never doubted but that economic transactions are embedded in moral worlds.

This was a very different understanding of Adam Smith’s significance to that with which most people to whom that name means something now have been inculcated. But it is an account of Adam Smith’s significance which grows increasingly recognizable to us now—thanks to the work of Donald Winch, Emma Rothschild and Istvan Hont, among others, facilitated by the end of Cold War hostilities and the renewal of interest in alternatives to state- or market-based principles of social order.

In other words there are ways of re-integrating economics into the wider moral matrices of human society without reverting to a Christian or Marxian belief system. There is nothing extreme or zealous about insisting that the moral significance of economic transactions be recognized. What was zealous and extreme was the determination to divorce economics from broader moral considerations. This moral critique of capitalism represented a recognition that the time for such extremity and zeal had passed. As the critique fell into disuse in the 1970s and 1980s, some of that zeal returned, and the last two decades now look to have been a period of especially pronounced ‘economism.’ The relevance of these writings now, then, is that they help us to put the last two decades and the last two centuries in perspective, revealing just how risky the experiment has been, urging us to settle back in now to a more sustainable pattern of economic thought.

You find that this moral critique of capitalism fell into disuse in the 1970s and 1980s. Bernie Sanders declared in April 2016 that instituting a ‘truly moral economy’ is ‘no longer beyond us.’ Was he right?

Yes and no. Sanders’ made this declaration at the Vatican, contemplating the great papal encyclicals of Rerum Novarum and Centesimus Annus. The discrepancies between what Sanders said and what Popes Leo XIII and Pope John Paul II before him said about capitalism is instructive. The encyclicals have always focussed on the ignominy of approaching a person as a bundle of economic appetites, on the apostasy of abstracting everything else that makes us human out of our economic thinking. Sanders sought to accede to that tradition of social thought—a tradition long since expanded to encompass perspectives at variance with Catholic theology, to include accounts of what a person is which originate outside the Christian tradition. But Sanders’s speech issued no challenge to the reduction of persons to economic actors. In designating material inequality the ‘great issue of our time,’ Sanders reinforced that reductive tendency: the implication is that all we care about is the satisfaction of our material needs, as if redistribution alone would solve all our problems.

The suggestion in Sanders speech was that his specific stance in the utilitarian debate over how best to organise the economy has now taken on moral force. There is an ‘individualist’ position which favors free enterprise and tolerates inequality as incidental to the enlargement of aggregate utility, and there is a ‘collectivist’ stance which enlists the state to limit freedom to ensure that inequality does not grow too wide, seeing inequality as inimical to the maximizing of aggregate utility. The ‘collectivists’ are claiming the moral high ground. But all they are really proposing is a different means to the agreed end of maximizing overall prosperity. The basis for their ‘moral’ claims seems to be that they have more people on their side—a development which would make Nietzsche smile, and should give all of us pause. There are similar overtones to the rallying of progressive forces around Jeremy Corbyn in the UK.

The kind of ‘moral economy’ Sanders had in mind—a big government geared towards maximizing utility—is not what these moral economists would have regarded as a ‘truly moral economy’. The kinds of checks upon economic license they had in mind were more spontaneous and informal—emanating out of everyday interactions, materializing as strictures against certain kinds of commercial practice in common law, inarticulate notions of what is done and what is not done, general conceptions of fairness, broad-based vigilance against excess of power. This kind of moral economy has never been beyond us. The solidarities out of which it arises were never eradicated, and are constantly regenerating.

Tim Rogan is a fellow of St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge, where he teaches history. He is the author of The Moral Economists: R. H. Tawney, Karl Polanyi, E. P. Thompson, and the Critique of Capitalism.

Jonathan Haskel & Stian Westlake on Capitalism without Capital

Early in the twenty-first century, a quiet revolution occurred. For the first time, the major developed economies began to invest more in intangible assets, like design, branding, R&D, and software, than in tangible assets, like machinery, buildings, and computers. For all sorts of businesses, from tech firms and pharma companies to coffee shops and gyms, the ability to deploy assets that one can neither see nor touch is increasingly the main source of long-term success. But this is not just a familiar story of the so-called new economy. Capitalism without Capital shows that the growing importance of intangible assets has also played a role in some of the big economic changes of the last decade.

What do you mean when you say we live in an age of Capitalism without Capital?

Our book is based on one big fact about the economy: that the nature of the investment that businesses do has fundamentally changed. Once businesses invested mainly in things you could touch or feel like buildings, machinery, and vehicles. But more and more investment now goes into things you can’t touch or feel: things like research and development, design, organizational development—“intangible’ investments. Today, in developed countries, businesses invest more each year intangible assets than in tangibles. But they’re often measured poorly or not at all in company accounts or national accounts. So there is still a lot of capital about, but it has done a sort of vanishing act, both physically and from the records that businesses and governments keep.

What difference does the rise of intangible investments make?

The rise of intangible investment matters because intangible assets tend to behave differently from tangible ones—they have different economic properties. In the book we call these properties the 4S’s—scalability, sunkenness, synergies, and spillovers. Intangibles can be used again and again, they’re hard to sell if a business fails, they’re especially good when you combine them, and the benefits of intangible investment often end up accruing to businesses other than the ones that make them. We argue that this change helps explain all sorts of important concerns people have about today’s economy, from why inequality has risen so much, to why productivity growth seems to have slowed down.

So is this another book about tech companies?

It’s much bigger than that. It’s true that some of the biggest tech companies have lots of very valuable intangibles, and few tangibles. Google’s search algorithms, software, and prodigious stores of data are intangibles; Apple’s design, brand, and supply chains are intangibles; Uber’s networks of drivers and users are intangible assets. Each of these intangibles is worth billions of dollars. But intangibles are everywhere. Even brick and mortar businesses like supermarkets or gyms rely on more and more intangible assets, such as software, codified operating procedures, or brands. And the rise of intangibles is a very long-term story: research by economists like Carol Corrado suggests that intangibles investment has been steadily growing since the early twentieth century, long before the first semiconductors, let alone the Internet.

Who will do well from this new intangible economy?

The intangible economy seems to be creating winners and losers. From a business point of view, we know that around the world, there’s a growing gap between the leading businesses in any given industry and the rest. We think this leader-laggard gap is partly caused by intangibles. Because intangibles are scalable and have synergies with one another, companies that have valuable intangibles will do better and better (and have more incentives to invest in more), while small and low performing companies won’t, and will lag ever further behind.

There is a personal dimension to this too. People who are good at combining ideas, and who are open to new ideas, will do better in an economy where there are lots of synergies between different assets. This will be a boon for educated, open-minded people, people with political, legal, and social connections, and for people who live in cities (where ideas tend to combine easily with one another). But others risk being left further behind.

Does this help explain the big political changes in recent years?

Yes—after the EU referendum in the UK and the 2016 presidential election in the US, a lot of pundits were asking why so many so-called “left behind” communities people voted for Brexit or Donald Trump. Some people thought they did so for cultural reasons, others argued the reasons were mainly economic. But we would argue that an intangible economy, these two reasons are linked: more connected, cosmopolitan places tend to do better economically in an intangible economy, while left-behind places suffer from an alienation that is both economic and cultural.

You mentioned that the rise of intangible investment might help explain why productivity growth is slowing. Why is that?

Many economists and policymakers worry about so-called secular stagnation: the puzzling fact that productivity growth and investment seems to have slowed down, even though interest rates are low and corporate profits are high, especially since 2009. We think the growing importance of intangibles can help explain this in a few ways.

  • There is certainly some under-measurement of investment going on—but as it happens this explains only a small part of the puzzle.
  • The rate of growth of intangible investment has slowed a bit since 2009. This seems to explain part of the slow-down in growth (and also helps explain why the slowdown has been manly concentrated in total factor productivity)
  • The gap between leading firms (with lots of intangibles) and laggard firms (with few) may have created a scenario where a few firms are investing in a lot of intangibles (think Google and Facebook) but for most others, it’s not worth it, since their more powerful competitors are likely to get the spillover benefits.

Does the intangible economy have consequences for investors?

Yes! Company accounts generally don’t record intangibles (except, haphazardly, as “goodwill” after an acquisition). This means that, as intangible assets become more important, corporate balance sheets tell investors less and less about the true value of a company. Much of what equity analysts spend their days doing is, in practice, trying to value intangibles.

And there’s lots of value to be had here: research suggests that equity markets undervalue intangibles like organizational development, and encourage public companies to underinvest in intangibles like R&D. But informed investors can take advantage of this—which can benefit both their own returns and the performance of the economy.

Jonathan, you’re an academic, and Stian, you are a policymaker. How did you come to write this book together?

We started working together in 2009 on the Nesta Innovation Index, which applied some of the techniques that Jonathan had worked on to measure intangibles to build an innovation measurement for the UK. The more we thought about, the clearer it became that intangibles helped explain all sorts of things. Ryan Avent from the Economist asked us to write a piece for their blog about one of these puzzles, and we enjoyed doing that so much we thought we would try writing a book. One of the most fun parts of writing the book was being able to combine the insights from academic economic research on intangibles and innovation with practical insights from innovation policy.

CapitalismJonathan Haskel is professor of economics at Imperial College Business School. Stian Westlake is a senior fellow at Nesta, the UK’s national foundation for innovation. Haskel and Westlake are cowinners of the 2017 Indigo Prize.

Geoff Mulgan on Big Mind: How Collective Intelligence Can Change Our World

A new field of collective intelligence has emerged in the last few years, prompted by a wave of digital technologies that make it possible for organizations and societies to think at large scale. This “bigger mind”—human and machine capabilities working together—has the potential to solve the great challenges of our time. So why do smart technologies not automatically lead to smart results? Gathering insights from diverse fields, including philosophy, computer science, and biology, Big Mind reveals how collective intelligence can guide corporations, governments, universities, and societies to make the most of human brains and digital technologies. Highlighting differences between environments that stimulate intelligence and those that blunt it, Geoff Mulgan shows how human and machine intelligence could solve challenges in business, climate change, democracy, and public health. Read on to learn more about the ideas in Big Mind.

So what is collective intelligence?

My interest is in how thought happens at a large scale, involving many people and often many machines. Over the last few years many experiments have shown how thousands of people can collaborate online analyzing data or solving problems, and there’s been an explosion of new technologies to sense, analyze and predict. My focus is on how we use these new kinds of collective intelligence to solve problems like climate change or disease—and what risks we need to avoid. My claim is that every organization can work more successfully if it taps into a bigger mind—mobilizing more brains and computers to help it.

How is it different from artificial intelligence?

Artificial intelligence is going through another boom, embedded in everyday things like mobile phones and achieving remarkable break throughs in medicine or games. But for most things that really matter we need human intelligence as well as AI, and an over reliance on algorithms can have horrible effects, whether in financial markets or in politics.

What’s the problem?

The problem is that although there’s huge investment in artificial intelligence there’s been little progress in how intelligently our most important systems work—democracy and politics, business and the economy. You can see this in the most everyday aspect of collective intelligence—how we organize meetings, which ignores almost everything that’s known about how to make meetings effective.

What solutions do you recommend?

I show how you can make sense of the collective intelligence of the organizations you’re in—whether universities or businesses—and how to become better. Much of this is about how we organize our information commons. I also show the importance of countering the many enemies of collective intelligence—distortions, lies, gaming and trolls.

Is this new?

Many of the examples I look at are quite old—like the emergence of an international community of scientists in the 17th and 18th centuries, the Oxford English Dictionary which mobilized tens of thousands of volunteers in the 19th century, or NASA’s Apollo program which at its height employed over half a million people in more than 20,000 organizations. But the tools at our disposal are radically different—and more powerful than ever before.

Who do you hope will read the book?

I’m biased but think this is the most fascinating topic in the world today—how to think our way out of the many crises and pressures that surround us. But I hope it’s of particular interest to anyone involved in running organizations or trying to work on big problems.

Are you optimistic?

It’s easy to be depressed by the many examples of collective stupidity around us. But my instinct is to be optimistic that we’ll figure out how to make the smart machines we’ve created serve us well and that we could on the cusp of a dramatic enhancement of our shared intelligence. That’s a pretty exciting prospect, and much too important to be left in the hands of the geeks alone.

MulganGeoff Mulgan is chief executive of Nesta, the UK’s National Endowment for Science, Technology and the Arts, and a senior visiting scholar at Harvard University’s Ash Center. He was the founder of the think tank Demos and director of the Prime Minister’s Strategy Unit and head of policy under Tony Blair. His books include The Locust and the Bee.

Éloi Laurent on Measuring Tomorrow

Never before in human history have we produced so much data, and this empirical revolution has shaped economic research and policy profoundly. But are we measuring, and thus managing, the right things—those that will help us solve the real social, economic, political, and environmental challenges of the twenty-first century? In Measuring Tomorrow, Éloi Laurent argues that we need to move away from narrowly useful metrics such as gross domestic product and instead use broader ones that aim at well-being, resilience, and sustainability. An essential resource for scholars, students, and policymakers, Measuring Tomorrow covers all aspects of well-being, and incorporates a broad range of data and fascinating case studies from around the world: not just the United States and Europe but also China, Africa, the Middle East, and India. Read on to learn more about how we can measure tomorrow.

Why should we go “beyond growth” in the 21st century to pay attention, as you advocate, to well-being, resilience and sustainability?

Because “growth,” that is growth of Gross Domestic Product or GDP, captures only a tiny fraction of what goes on in complex human societies: it tracks some but not all of economic well-being (saying nothing about fundamental issues such as income inequality), it does not account for most dimensions of well-being (think about the importance of health, education, or happiness for your own quality of life), and does not account at all for sustainability, which basically means well-being not just today but also tomorrow (imagine your quality of life in a world where the temperature would be 6 degrees higher). My point is that because well-being (human flourishing), resilience (resisting to shocks) and sustainability (caring about the future) have been overlooked by mainstream economics in the last three decades, our economic world has been mismanaged and our prosperity is now threatened.

To put it differently, while policymakers govern with numbers and data, they are as well governed by them so they better be relevant and accurate. It turns out, and that’s a strong argument of the book, that GDP’s relevance is fast declining in the beginning of the twenty-first century for three major reasons. First, economic growth, so buoyant during the three decades following the Second World War, has gradually faded away in advanced and even developing economies and is therefore becoming an ever-more-elusive goal for policy. Second, both objective and subjective well-being—those things that make life worth living—are visibly more and more disconnected from economic growth. Finally, GDP and growth tell us nothing about the compatibility of our current well-being with the long-term viability of ecosystems, even though it is clearly the major challenge we and our descendants must face.

Since “growth” cannot help us understand let alone solve the two major crises of our time, the inequality crisis and ecological crises, we must rely on other compasses to find our way in this new century. In my view, the whole of economic activity, which is a subset of social cooperation, should be reoriented toward the well-being of citizens and the resilience and sustainability of societies. For that to happen, we need to put these three collective horizons at the center of our empirical world. Or rather, back at the center, because issues of well-being and sustainability have been around for quite a long time in economic analysis and were a central part of its philosophy until the end of the nineteenth century. But economics as we know it today has largely forgotten that these concerns were once at the core of its reflections.

Isn’t there a fundamental trade-off between well-being and sustainability? Can we really pursue those goals together?

That is a key question and the book makes the case that advances in human well-being are fully compatible with environmental sustainability and even that the two are, or at least can be, mutually reinforcing provided we think clearly about those notions. Well-being represents the many dimensions of human development and sustainability represents dynamic well-being. They are obviously related.

To use the words of Chinese Environment Minister Zhou Shengxian in 2011, “If our planet is wrecked and our health ravaged, what is the benefit of our development?” In other words, our economic and political systems exist only within a larger context, the biosphere, whose vitality is the source of their survival and perpetuation. If ecological crises are not measured, monitored, and mitigated, they will eventually wipe out human well-being.

Well-being without sustainability (and resilience understood as short-term sustainability) is just an illusion. Our planet’s climate crisis has the potential to destroy the unprecedented contemporary progress in human health in a mere few decades. As acknowledged by Minister Zhou, if China’s ecosystems collapse under the weight of hyper-growth, with no unpolluted water left to drink nor clean air to breathe, the hundreds of millions of people in that country who have escaped poverty since the 1980s will be thrown back into it and worse. But, conversely, sustainability without well-being is just an ideal. Human behaviors and attitudes will become more sustainable not to “save the planet,” but to preserve well-being. Measuring well-being, resilience and sustainability makes their fundamental interdependence even clearer.

 But do robust indicators of well-being and sustainability already exist? If so, what do they tell us about our world that conventional economic indicators cannot?

Plenty exist, the task now is to select the best and use them to change policy. This is really what this book is about. Think about health in the US. Simple metrics such as life expectancy or mortality rates tell us a whole different story about what has happened in the country in the last thirty years than just growth. Actually, the healthcare reform initiated by Barack Obama in 2009 can be explained by the desire to amend a health system in which the human and economic cost has become unbearable. The recent discovery by economists Angus Deaton and Anne Case of very high mortality rates among middle-aged whites in the United States, all the while GDP was growing, is proof that health status must be studied and measured regardless of a nation’s perceived wealth status. How is it that the richest country in the world in terms of average income per capita, a country that devotes more of its wealth to health than any other, comes close to last in the rankings with comparable countries in terms of health outcomes? Use different indicators, as I do in the chapter devoted to health, and the solution to the American health puzzle quickly becomes apparent to you: the ballooning of inefficient private spending has led to a system where the costs are huge compared to its performance.

Or consider happiness in China, which has seen its per capita income grow exponentially since the early 1990s, while happiness levels have either stagnated or dropped (depending on the survey) only to increase again in recent years when growth was much lower. If you look at China only through the lens of growth, you basically miss the whole story about the life of people.

Paying attention to well-being can also help us understand why the Arab Spring erupted in Tunisia in 2011, a country where growth was strong and steady but where civil liberties and political rights clearly deteriorated before the revolution. The same is true for the quality of life in Europe and in my hometown of Paris, where air pollution has reached unbearable and life threatening levels despite the appearance of considerable wealth. Measuring well-being and sustainability simply change the way we see the world and should change the way we do policy.

What sign do you see that what you call the well-being and sustainability transition is under way?

In the last decade alone, scholars and policy makers have recognized in increasing numbers that standard economic indicators such as GDP not only create false expectations of perpetual societal growth but are also broken compasses for policy. And things are changing fast at all levels of governance: global, national, local.

The well-being and sustainability transition received international recognition in September 2015, when the United Nations embraced a “sustainable development goals” agenda in which GDP growth plays only a marginal role. In the US, scores of scholars and (some) policy makers increasingly realize the importance of paying attention to inequality rather than just growth. China’s leaders acknowledge that sustainability is a much better policy target than explosive economic expansion. Pope Francis is also a force of change when he writes in the encyclical Laudato si, published in June 2015: “We are faced not with two separate crises, one environmental and the other social, but rather with one complex crisis which is both social and environmental.” and urges us to abandon growth as a collective horizon. Influential newspapers and magazines such as The Economist and NYT recently ran articles arguing that GDP should be dropped or at least complemented. Local transitions are happening all over the planet, from Copenhagen to Baltimore, Chinese provinces to Indian states.

How should students, activists and policymakers engage in “Measuring tomorrow?”

The book serves as a practical guide to using indicators of well-being and sustainability to change our world. The basic course of action is to make visible what matters for humans and then make it count. Unmeasurability means invisibility: “what is not measured is not managed.” as the saying goes Conversely, measuring is governing: indicators determine policies and actions. Measuring, done properly, can produce positive social meaning.

First, we thus need to engage in a transition in values to change behaviors and attitudes. We live in a world where many dimensions of human well-being already have a value and often a price; it is the pluralism of value that can therefore protect those dimensions from the dictatorship of the single price. It does not mean that everything should be monetized or marketed but understanding how what matters to humans can be accounted for is the first step to valuing and taking care of what really counts.

Then we need to understand that the challenge is not just to interpret or even analyze this new economic world, but to change it. We thus need to understand how indicators of well-being and sustainability can become performative and not just descriptive. This can be done by integrating indicators in policy through representative democracy, regulatory democracy, and democratic activism. Applied carefully by private and public decision-makers, well-being and sustainability indicators can foster genuine progress.

Finally, we need to build tangible transitions at the local level. Well-being is best measured where it is actually experienced. Localities (cities, regions) are more agile than states, not to mention international institutions, and better able to put in motion well-being indicators and translate them into new policies. We can talk, in this respect, after the late Elinor Ostrom, of a “polycentric transition,” meaning that each level of government can seize the opportunity of the well-being and sustainability transition without waiting for the impetus to come from above.

As you can see, so much to learn, do and imagine!

LaurentÉloi Laurent is senior economist at the Sciences Po Centre for Economic Research (OFCE) in Paris. He also teaches at Stanford University and has been a visiting professor at Harvard University. He is the author or editor of fifteen books, including Measuring Tomorrow: Accounting for Well-Being, Resilience, and Sustainability in the Twenty-First Century.

 

Why Luck Is the Silent Partner of Success

Princeton University Press is partnering with Knowledge@Wharton, The Wharton School’s online business analysis journal, to bring you regular thought pieces from our authors. Our inaugural post is from economist Robert Frank. The piece appeared initially on the Knowledge@Wharton site. 

Why do the rich underestimate the role of luck in their success? Why does that mindset hurt society? What can be done about it? These are some of the questions that Robert H. Frank, author of Success and Luck: Good Fortune and the Myth of Meritocracy, addresses in this opinion piece. Frank is an economist at Cornell University and an economics columnist for the New York Times. His books, which include Success and Luck and The Winner-Take-All Society, have been translated into 24 languages.

As the essayist E.B. White once wrote, “Luck is not something you can mention in the presence of self-made men.” Some people are of course quick to acknowledge the good fortune they’ve enjoyed along their paths to the top.  But White was surely correct that such people are in the minority. More commonly, successful people overestimate their responsibility for whatever successes they achieve.

Even lottery winners are sometimes blind to luck’s role. In his 2012 book, The Success Equation, Michael Mauboussin describes a man inspired by a succession of dreams to believe he’d win the Spanish National Lottery if he could purchase a ticket number whose last two digits were 48. After an extensive search, he located and bought such a ticket, which indeed turned out to be a winner. When an interviewer later asked why he’d sought out that particular number, he said, “I dreamed of the number 7 for seven straight nights. And 7 times 7 is 48.”

The tendency to overestimate the predictability of events extends well beyond lottery winners. The sociologist Paul Lazarsfeld illustrated this tendency, known as “hindsight bias,” with people’s reactions to a study that investigated how different groups of men adjusted to the rigors of military life. As he described the study to his subjects, its principal finding was that men who had grown up in rural areas adjusted far more successfully than their urban counterparts. Many of Lazarsfeld’s subjects reacted exactly as he had expected. Why, they wondered, was a costly study needed to confirm something so obvious?

The twist was that Lazarsfeld’s description of the study was a fabrication. The study had actually discovered that men who had grown up in urban settings adjusted to military life more successfully. If Lazarsfeld had reported the actual finding to his subjects, of course, they would have found it just as easy to construct a compelling narrative to explain its truth.

“An unfortunate consequence of seeing ourselves as entirely self-made … [is that it] makes us much less likely to support the public investments that made our own successes possible….”

In similar fashion, when successful people reflect on their paths to the top, they tend to view their success as having been all but inevitable. In their attempts to construct narratives to explain it, they search their memory banks for details that are consistent with successful outcomes. And because the overwhelming majority of successful people are in fact extremely talented and hardworking, they’ll find many ready examples of the long hours they logged, the many difficult problems they solved, and the many formidable opponents they vanquished.

But as the psychologist Tom Gilovich has shown, they’re much less likely to remember external events that may have helped them along the way — the teacher who once steered them out of trouble, perhaps, or the early promotion received only because a slightly more qualified colleague had to care for an ailing parent. This asymmetry, Gilovich points out, resembles the one with which people react to headwinds and tailwinds.

When you’re running or bicycling into a strong headwind, for example, you’re keenly aware of the handicap you face. And when your course shifts, putting the wind at your back, you feel a momentary sense of relief. But that feeling fades almost immediately, leaving you completely unmindful of the tailwind’s assistance. Gilovich’s collaborations with the psychologist Shai Davidai demonstrate the pervasiveness of analogous asymmetries in memory. People are far more cognizant of the forces that impede their progress than of those that boost them along.

An unfortunate consequence of seeing ourselves as entirely self-made — rather than as talented, hardworking, and lucky—is that this perception makes us much less likely to support the public investments that made our own successes possible in the first place.

Being born in a good environment is an enormously lucky thing and one of the only lucky things we can actually control. Basically, we get to decide how lucky our children will be. But that requires extensive investment in the future, something we’ve been reluctant to undertake of late. Even as a shrinking group among us has been growing steadily luckier, a growing number of the unluckiest have been falling still further behind.

The good news is that we can easily do better. It turns out that when successful people are prompted to reflect on how chance events affected their paths to the top, they become much more inclined to pay forward for the next generation.

It would be a mistake, however, to think that simply telling successful people that they’ve been lucky will elicit this reaction. On the contrary, it seems to have precisely the opposite effect, making them angry and defensive. It’s as if you’ve told them that they don’t really deserve to be on top, that they aren’t who they think they are.

Consider Elizabeth Warren’s 2012 you-didn’t-build-that speech, in which she reminded successful business owners that they had shipped their goods to market on roads the rest of us paid for, they had hired workers educated at taxpayer expense, and they had been safe in their factories because of police and firefighters the community hired. In return, she then reminded them, the social contract asks them to pay forward for the next group that comes along.

It is difficult to spot anything controversial in these words. Yet shortly after she spoke them, the video of her speech went viral, provoking outraged comments by the millions.

“Don’t remind your successful friends that they’ve enjoyed a bit of luck. Instead, ask them to recall examples of lucky breaks….”

No, simply telling rich people that they’ve been lucky won’t make them more willing to invest in the next generation. Mysteriously, however, an ostensibly equivalent rhetorical move seems to have precisely that effect: If you ask your successful friends whether they can think of any lucky breaks they might have enjoyed, you’ll almost invariably discover that they seem to enjoy trying to recall examples. You’ll see, too, that their eyes light up as they describe each one they remember.

Research has demonstrated that priming people to experience the emotion of gratitude significantly increases their willingness to incur costs to promote the common good. And people who recall instances in which they’ve been lucky reliably experience gratitude, even when there is no specific person to whom they feel grateful.

The economist Yuezhou Huo, for example, asked one group of people to list three external causes for something good that had recently happened to them, a second group to list three personal traits or actions that had contributed to the good thing, and a third group merely to report a good thing that had recently happened. Subjects received a bonus payment for their participation in this study, and  Huo offered them a chance to donate some or all of that payment to a charity when the study ended. Those who had been asked to list external causes — many of whom mentioned luck explicitly — donated 25% more than those who were asked to name personal traits or behaviors. The control group’s donations fell squarely in the middle.

As psychologists have long understood, logically equivalent statements often elicit very different emotional responses. Calling a glass half empty, for example, conveys something quite different from calling it half full. So, too, with our statements about luck. Don’t remind your successful friends that they’ve enjoyed a bit of luck. Instead, ask them to recall examples of lucky breaks they might have enjoyed along the way. Even if their recollections don’t prompt them to adopt a more generous posture toward future generations, you’re bound to hear some interesting stories.

Gary Saul Morson & Morton Schapiro: The Humanomics of Tax Reform

CentsThe Trump administration is now placing tax reform near the top of its legislative agenda. Perhaps they will garner the votes for tax reduction, but reform? Good luck.

It has been three decades since there has been meaningful tax reform in this country. In 1986, tax shelters were eliminated, the number of tax brackets went from 15 to 4, including a reduction of the highest marginal tax rate from 50% to 38.5% and the standard deduction was increased, simplifying tax preparation and resulting in zero tax liability for millions of low-income families. At the same time, a large-scale expansion of the alternative minimum tax affected substantial numbers of the more affluent.

President Reagan insisted that the overall effect be neutral with regard to tax revenues. That demand made it possible to set aside the issue of whether government should be larger or smaller and instead focus on inefficiencies or inequities in how taxes were assessed. Two powerful Democrats, Dick Gephardt in the House and Bill Bradley in the Senate, were co-sponsors.

Economists might evaluate the merits of this monumental piece of legislation in terms of the incentives and disincentives it created, its ultimate impact on labor force participation, capital investment and the like, but there is another metric to be evaluated – was it perceived to be fair? Accounts from that day imply that it was.

The notion of fairness is not generally in the wheelhouse of economics. But the humanities have much to say on that matter.

To begin with, literature teaches that fairness is one of those concepts that seem simple so long as one does not transcend one’s own habitual way of looking at things. As soon as one learns to see issues from other points of view, different conceptions of fairness become visible and simple questions become more complex. Great novels work by immersing the reader in one character’s perspective after another, so we learn to experience how different people – people as reasonable and decent as we ourselves are – might honestly come to see questions of fairness differently.

So, the first thing that literature would suggest is that, apart from the specific provisions of the 1986 tax reform, the fact that it was genuinely bipartisan was part of what made it fair. Bipartisanship meant the reform was not one side forcing its will on the other. Had the same reform been passed by one party, it would not have seemed so fair. Part of fairness is the perception of fairness, which suggests that the process, not just the result, was fair.

Fairness, of course, also pertains to the content of the reforms. What are the obligations of the rich to support needy families? Are there responsibilities of the poor to participate however they can in providing for their own transformation?

In Tolstoy’s novel Anna Karenina, two main characters, Levin and Stiva, go hunting with the young fop, Vasenka, and as they encounter hard-working peasants, they start discussing the justice of economic inequality. Only foolish Vasenka can discuss the question disinterestedly, because it is, believe it or not, entirely new to him: “`Yes, why is it we spend our time riding, drinking, shooting doing nothing, while they are forever at work?’ said Vasenka, obviously for the first time in his life reflecting on the question, and consequently considering it with perfect sincerity.” Can it really be that an educated person has reached adulthood with this question never having occurred to him at all?

And yet, isn’t that the position economists find themselves in when they ignore fairness? When they treat tax reform, or any other issue, entirely in economic terms? Levin recognizes that there is something unfair about his wealth, but also recognizes that there is no obvious solution: it would do the peasants no good if he were to just give away his property. Should he make things more equal by making everyone worse off? On the contrary, his ability to make farmland more productive benefits the peasants, too. So, what, he asks, should be done?

Levin also knows that inequality is not only economic. If one experiences oneself as a lesser person because of social status, as many of the peasants do, that is itself a form of inequality entirely apart from wealth. In our society, we refer to participants in government as “taxpayers.” Does that then mean that to exempt large numbers of people from any taxation entirely demeans them – not least of all, in their own eyes?  There may be no effective economic difference between a very small tax and none at all, but it may make a tremendous psychological difference. Isn’t the failure to take the psychological effect of tax rates seriously as disturbingly innocent as Vasenka’s question about inequality?

Combining a humanistic and an economic approach might not give us specific answers, but it does make questions of fairness, including symbolic effects, part of the question. And in a democracy, where popular acceptance of the rules as legitimate is crucial, that would be a step forward.

Gary Saul Morson is the Lawrence B. Dumas Professor of the Arts and Humanities and professor of Slavic languages and literatures at Northwestern University. His many books include Narrative and Freedom, “Anna Karenina” in Our Time, and The Words of Others: From Quotations to Culture. Morton Schapiro is the president of Northwestern University and a professor of economics. His many books include The Student Aid Game. Morson and Schapiro are also the editors of The Fabulous Future?: America and the World in 2040 and the authors of Cents and Sensibility: What Economics Can Learn from the Humanities.

Richard H. Thaler wins the Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel, 2017

Princeton, NJ, October 9, 2017—Upon today’s announcement that Dr. Richard H. Thaler is the winner of the Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel 2017, Princeton University Press extends hearty congratulations to the celebrated economist.

The Royal Swedish Academy of Science recognizes Dr. Thaler “for his contributions to behavioural economics.”

Dr. Thaler is the Charles R. Walgreen Distinguished Service Professor of Economics and Behavioral Science at the University of Chicago’s Booth School of Business where he directs the Center for Decision Research. He is also a Research Associate at the National Bureau of Economic Research where he codirects the Behavioral Economics Project. Dr. Thaler’s research bridges the gap between psychology and economics. He is considered a pioneer in the fields of behavioral economics and finance.

Princeton University Press is deeply gratified to be the publisher of Dr. Thaler’s The Winner’s Curse: Paradoxes and Anomalies of Economic Life (1994) and Advances in Behavioral Finance, Volume II (2005).

According to Joe Jackson, Senior Economics Editor at Princeton University Press, “Dr. Thaler’s is an edifying story of how economics adapts and, over time, can come to embrace new perspectives that at first might seem at odds with the whole tradition, but that stand the test of extensive scrutiny and experimentation and end up broadly changing the field.  Princeton University Press is proud to have played a minor but relatively early part in that story by publishing the paperback of The Winner’s Curse, shortly after it was published in hardcover by the Free Press in 1992, which is still in print today.”

Since 1905, Princeton University Press has remained committed to publishing global thought leaders in the economic sciences and beyond. We are honored to count Dr. Thaler’s work as a cornerstone of this legacy.

Richard Thaler joins a number of esteemed PUP authors who have won the Nobel Prize in Economics, among them Angus Deaton, Jean Tirole, Lars Peter Hansen and Robert J. Shiller, Thomas J. Sargent, Peter A. Diamond, Elinor Ostrom, Edmund Phelps, Robert J. Aumann, George Akerlof, Robert Engle, John Nash, and Alvin Roth.

Jean Tirole on Economics for the Common Good

When Jean Tirole won the 2014 Nobel Prize in Economics, he suddenly found himself being stopped in the street by complete strangers and asked to comment on issues of the day, no matter how distant from his own areas of research. His transformation from academic economist to public intellectual prompted him to reflect further on the role economists and their discipline play in society. The result is Economics for the Common Good, a passionate manifesto for a world in which economics, far from being a “dismal science,” is a positive force for the common good.

What inspired you to write this book, and what did you learn in the process?

I wanted to show how economics can open a window to the world. I have long taken part in policymaking, conversing with private and public decision-makers, but as yet I had never engaged with the wider public.  After receiving the Nobel Prize I was regularly asked by people I met in the street or as I gave talks to explain to a broader audience the nature of economic research and what it contributes to our well-being. Not as a commentator on each and every topic, but simply to share with the public how scientific knowledge can guide economic policies and help us understand the world we (will) live in. I tried to write a book that is intelligible for any intellectually curious reader even with no or slight knowledge of economics. The book is divided into 17 stand-alone chapters so the reader can pick and choose.

Can you talk a bit about the value of making economic ideas comprehensible to a general audience?

Repeatedly blaming politicians for flawed policies won’t get us very far. Like us all, they respond to the incentives they face, in their case the hope of being (re)elected. Very rarely do they go against majoritarian public opinion. So we, citizens, get the policies we deserve. And as I explain in the book, our understanding of economic phenomena is obfuscated by various cognitive biases; we are dependent on rules of thumb and narratives, and we often believe what we want to believe, see what we want to see. Economics acts as a deciphering key, although it of course has its own shortcomings.

In the book you talk about economics for the common good. What exactly is “the common good?”

Economics for the Common Good is an ambition: to help our institutions serve general interest by studying those situations in which individual motives conflict with the interests of society, in order to suggest policies that align social and private interests. The invisible and the visible hands—the market and the State—are mutually complementary; to function well a market economy needs an efficient State to correct its failures. But sometimes the State does not work for the Common Good; for example, many countries are leaving their children substantial levels of unfunded public debt, unemployment, a degraded educational system, inequality, and a lack of preparation for the digital upheaval that our societies are on the brink of encountering. And the world does little to contain climate change. The book therefore pays particular attention to what is going wrong with governments and how this can be remedied to promote the Common Good.

Why do economists have a reputation as “scaremongers?”

I have already mentioned our cognitive biases. Economics is accessible, but can be counterintuitive if one stops at first impressions. Accordingly, and as I illustrate in the book though housing, labor market, climate and other public policies, the road to economic hell is often paved with good intentions. Public policies—the reflection of the electorate’s beliefs—too often ignore side effects. Contrary to general opinion, these side effects are usually borne by third parties rather than the beneficiaries of the policies. Economists, when pointing to the indirect harm on mostly invisible victims (e.g. those who don’t find a job or decent housing, or the taxpayers), are often accused of lacking empathy for the intended and very visible beneficiaries.

Economists may also be the bearers of bad news; while the classical economics representation of a society of purely self-interested individuals is a mediocre description of reality (the book details how morality is privately and socially constructed), when economists mention the need for incentives they trigger anxiety and resistance; we would all rather live in a world of honest, hardworking and empathic citizens. To my mind, the whole point of economics is to design policies and institutions that work towards reaching this different world, where individuals spontaneously operate for the Common Good.

Economics has come under sharp attack, especially since the 2008 financial crisis. Is it a science?

Economists’ judgment may be impaired by financial conflicts of interest, political friendships, or ambitions to be a publicly recognized intellectual. But we must also be humble and accept that as a science, economics is an inexact one. Like any science, it is built on to-and-fro between theory, which provides a lens to the world and allows us to understand observations and describe their implications, and empirical work, which measures the importance of effects and helps question the theory: lab experiments need fieldwork, econometrics, big data. But our knowledge is imperfect; good data may be unavailable, theories may oversimplify, and behavioral patterns and self-fulfilling phenomena (such as bank runs or bubbles) may complicate the analysis. Overall, an economist will generally feel more comfortable analyzing past events and proposing future policies rather than forecasting. A characteristic that is incidentally shared by doctors and seismologists, who detect environments that are conducive to a heart attack or an earthquake and provide useful recommendations, and at the same time may be hard-pressed to predict the exact timing of the event or even whether the latter will occur at all.

TiroleJean Tirole, the winner of the 2014 Nobel Prize in Economics, has been described as one of the most influential economists of our time. He is chairman of the Toulouse School of Economics and of the Institute for Advanced Study in Toulouse and a visiting professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. His many books include The Theory of Corporate Finance and Financial Crises, Liquidity, and the International Monetary System.

Scheidel, Lo, and Tirole longlisted for FT & McKinsey Business Books of the Year

Scheidel Great Leveler jacketThe longlist for the Financial Times & McKinsey Business Books of the Year Award was announced on August 14th, and we’re thrilled that once again the list of finalists includes several Princeton University Press books:

The Great Leveler by Walter Scheidel, the first book to chart the crucial role of violent shocks in reducing inequality over the full sweep of human history around the world.

Economics for the Common Good by French winner of the Nobel prize in economics, Jean Tirole, a passionate manifesto for a world in which economics, far from being a “dismal science,” is a positive force for the common good.

Adaptive Markets by Andrew Lo, a new, evolutionary explanation of markets and investor behavior.

Economics for the Common Good by Jean TiroleThe shortlist for this highly distinguished prize will be announced on September 19th. The winner of the Business Book of the Year Award will be awarded £30,000, and £10,000 will be awarded to each of the remaining shortlisted books.

Take a look at all the finalists for this honor during the past decade here.

LoA heartfelt congratulations to our authors.

 

 

 

 

Gary Saul Morson & Morton Schapiro: How the study of economics can benefit from the humanities

CentsEconomists often act as if their methods explain all human behavior. But in Cents and Sensibility, an eminent literary critic and a leading economist make the case that the humanities, especially the study of literature, offer economists ways to make their models more realistic, their predictions more accurate, and their policies more effective and just. Gary Saul Morson and Morton Schapiro argue that economists need a richer appreciation of behavior, ethics, culture, and narrative—all of which the great writers teach better than anyone. Original, provocative, and inspiring, Cents and Sensibility brings economics back to its place in the human conversation. Read on to learn more about how the study of economics is lacking, the misreading of Adam Smith, and how the humanities can help.

You clearly think that economics as traditionally practiced is lacking in fundamental ways. Why?
We believe that economic models could be more realistic, their predictions more accurate, and their policies more effective and just, if economics opened itself up to learning from other fields.

But don’t economists already work on subjects within the typical domain of such disciplines as psychology, sociology, anthropology, and history, among others?
It is true that economists apply their models very widely, but they often expropriate topics rather than sincerely engage with other fields. Too often economists act as if other disciplines have the questions, and economics has the answers. It is one thing to tread on the territory of another discipline; it is quite another to be willing to learn from it. Economists have often been imperialistic, presuming that the subject matter of other disciplines could be put on a “sound basis” if handled by economic models. They rarely ask whether the methods and assumptions of other disciplines might help economics. We need a dialogue, and a dialogue goes both ways.

You say that economics can be improved by interaction with the humanities, and especially the study of literature. In what ways does economics fall short so that an understanding of literature might help?
Economists have an especially hard time in three sorts of situations: when culture plays an important role, since one cannot mathematize culture; when contingency prevails and narrative explanation is required; and when ethical problems irreducible to economic models are important. For instance, whether to have a market in kidneys—one topic we address—is not a question that can be adequately addressed solely in economic terms. Economic thinking has something useful to say in many such cases, but not everything.  Great works of literature have offered the richest portraits of human beings we have. If social scientists understood as much about human beings as the great novelists, they could have produced pictures of human beings as believable as those of Jane Austen, George Eliot, or Leo Tolstoy, but none has even come close. The great novelists, who were often keen thinkers who discussed the complexities of human feeling and behavior, must have known something! They also produced the subtlest descriptions of ethical problems we have.

Isn’t economic imperialism the legacy of Adam Smith, the founder of the discipline?
Not at all. Economists, who seldom read The Wealth of Nations and rarely ask students to do so either, present a version of Adam Smith that is largely fictional. A thinker with an immensely complex sense of human nature, and who insisted that human beings care for others in ways that cannot be reduced to self-interest, is presented as a founder of rational choice theory, which presumes the opposite. What has happened is that a few Smithian ideas have been represented as the whole, and then a model based on them alone has been constructed and been attributed to him. While Adam Smith is often invoked to justify a simplistic view of human behavior guided by rational self-interest, and of economic policies that reject any interference with the free functioning of markets, his work was much more nuanced and sophisticated than that. To truly understand The Wealth of Nations, one must also read his complementary volume, The Theory of Moral Sentiments. Together, they provide the kind of far-reaching, inclusive economics celebrated in this book—an economics that takes other subjects seriously and embraces narrative explanations.

Don’t those two books contradict each other?
The idea that they do, and the question how the same author could have written them both, is often called “the Adam Smith problem.” In fact, the problem arises only when one misreads Smith. We offer a solution to the Adam Smith problem, which also shows how his thought looks forward to the great novelists to come.

You believe that narratives could teach economics a great deal. Is that why you argue that the humanities could be so useful in making economics more relevant?  How exactly does narrative help?
Stories are important, especially those told by the great realist novelists such as Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Chekhov, and Austen. They help in at least two ways. First, in a world where genuine contingency exists, it is necessary to explain events narratively, and there are no better models for narratives about people in society than those in great novels. Second, novels foster empathy. Other disciplines may recommend empathy, but only novels provide constant practice in it. When you read a great novel, you identify with characters, inhabit their thought processes from within, and so learn experientially what it is to be someone else—a person of a different culture, class, gender, or personality. In a great novel you inhabit many points of view, and experience how each appears to the others. In this way, great novels are a source of wisdom. They appreciate people as being inherently cultural while embracing ethics in all its irreducible complexity.

That doesn’t sound like the way English courses are currently taught or accord with the currently predominant premises of literary theory.
Quite so. We are stressing a particular version of the humanities, what we think of as “the best of the humanities.” In a variety of ways, the humanities have been false to their core mission, which may be why so many students are fleeing them. In addition to the dominant trends of literary theory, we have witnessed a series of “spoof” disciplines, which purport to be humanistic but are actually something else. Sociobiological criticism, digital humanities, and other such trends proceed as if literature were too old fashioned to matter, and one has to somehow restore its importance by linking it—how doesn’t matter much—to whatever is fashionable. They all too often dehumanize the humanities, reducing their value not just to economics but to other fields as well. We celebrate, and recommend economists consider, the humanities at their best.

Are there any particular subjects within economics where engagement with the “best” of the humanities would be especially worthwhile?
There is a wide range of areas covered in the book—from economic development, to the economics of higher education, to the economics of the family—for which we believe a genuine dialogue between the humanities and economics is useful. We offer case studies in each of these areas, with some unanticipated results. We don’t pretend to conclude that dialogue in our book; we instead seek to get it started in a serious way.

Where do you see the dialogue of the two cultures leading?
The point of a real dialogue is that it is open-ended, that you don’t know where it will lead. It is surprising, and that is what makes it both stimulating and creative.

Gary Saul Morson is the Lawrence B. Dumas Professor of the Arts and Humanities and professor of Slavic languages and literatures at Northwestern University. His many books include Narrative and Freedom, “Anna Karenina” in Our Time, and The Words of Others: From Quotations to Culture. Morton Schapiro is the president of Northwestern University and a professor of economics. His many books include The Student Aid Game. Morson and Schapiro are also the editors of The Fabulous Future?: America and the World in 2040.