Tim Harford The Undercover Economist

Articles published in April, 2018

Understanding Algorithms

You’ve probably noticed that there are a lot of algorithms about these days, doing everything from recommending a walking route to figuring out how to beat the world’s best players at Go. But what are they, really, how do they work, and how will they change the world?

I’ve read some excellent books recently on the subject and have a few recommendations.

 

For a fun and memorable discussion of how specific algorithms work (even how you might use them yourself to sort out your sock drawer or find a nice apartment) then try Algorithms to Live By (UK) (US) by Brian Christian and Tom Griffiths. I enjoyed this book very much, although not quite as much as Brian Christian’s The Most Human Human (UK) (US), which is all about how to have a better conversation, whether you’re a human or a bot. It’s one of my favourite books, ever.

 

On the economic and social implications of artificial intelligence, I strongly recommend Prediction Machines (UK) (US), by Ajay Agrawal, Joshua Gans, and Avi Goldfarb. Since I wrote “What We Get Wrong About Technology”, I’ve been telling people not to overlook simple, cheap innovations (paper, the shipping container, concrete). Space travel and supercomputers get all the press. Just being cheap doesn’t. But being cheap can transform the world. “Prediction Machines” gratifyingly chimes with this idea: the authors argue that artificial intelligence is best thought of as a way of producing super-cheap predictions; predicting what you might buy, predicting whether a shadow on a scan is cancer, predicting what the Japanese translation of this sentence might be.

Implication 1: good predictions reduce uncertainty, and lots of things we do are a response to uncertainty. For example, freezers (uncertainty about what and when I will want to cook) Airport lounges (uncertainty about how long it will take me to get to the airport means I show up early). AI is therefore bad for airport lounges.

Implication 2: sufficiently good predictions are game-changers. If Amazon’s recommendation engine gets good enough, they can take the risk of shipping me stuff I haven’t yet bought.

Implication 3: “judgement” becomes an important complement to predictions. How bad is a false positive when I predict a fraudulent credit card transaction and annoy my platinum card holder? What about a false positive diagnosis of cancer?

Implication 4: AI rarely replaces an entire human job directly. It tends to replace specific tasks – small slices of what we think of as a job. Reimagining/reengineering workflow will be an important competitive advantage.

As a bonus, the book has lots of good examples and is written clearly. I learned a lot.

 

For a sceptical take on the limits and the toxic side-effects of machine learning, there’s Cathy O’Neil’s passionate, political and very readable Weapons of Math Destruction (UK) (US) or the new book Artificial Unintelligence (UK) (US) by Meredith Broussard, which I have barely skimmed but seems to contain a very good mix of storytelling, history and technical ideas. Promising.

 

 

 

Finally, I’ve been fortunate enough to read the manuscript of Hello World (UK) (US) – out in September – by Hannah Fry. This is really a superb overview: lots of good stories, clear explanations, and it’s wide-ranging. I think if you want a general guide to the new world of data-driven computing you couldn’t do much better than this.

 

 

 

My book “Messy: How To Be Creative and Resilient in a Tidy-Minded World” is now available in paperback both in the US and the UK – or through your local bookshop.

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30th of April, 2018MarginaliaResourcesComments off

A Monetary Remedy for the Mid Life Crisis

Written for and first published in the Financial Times on 30 March 2018.

“The time has come when we boomers are going to have to reach into our own pockets.” That was the view of David Willetts — formerly UK minister for higher education — a few weeks ago.

It sounds as though Mr Willetts was calling for a tax on the over-55s, but he was in fact drawing attention to the more mainstream idea of raising taxes on wealth. But perhaps we should be bolder. Why not raise taxes on the over-55s? It seems like a terrific policy to me, at least until I grow a little older.

We do have age-related subsidies, such as Medicare in the US and state pensions in many countries. The UK government even waives its quasi-income tax, national insurance, when working people pass pension age. But these explicitly aged-based measures are rare.

It is more common to see policies that redistribute between the generations as a side effect of something else. The introduction of higher university tuition fees in the UK — thanks in part to Mr Willetts himself — was designed to fund the expansion of universities at the expense of those who benefited from them. Alas, it also spared anyone who already has a degree while burdening the young with debt.

Then there is housing: tight planning restrictions from San Francisco to London help to squeeze house prices higher. That benefits people who already have houses, and they tend to be older than those who rent.

Low interest rates cut both ways, pushing the price of assets higher, but making it harder for retirees to live off their accumulated savings. Each policy has a differential effect on different generations that is largely accidental.

Perhaps we should be more deliberate about this. But trying to figure out which generation, if any, is more deserving is not straightforward. Should we look at a snapshot, or a life cycle?

The snapshot view is that at any given moment, young people have low-wage jobs and debts, while older people have higher-wage jobs and assets, so we should tend to redistribute from old to young.

The life-cycle view is that at any given age, each cohort tends to be richer than its forerunners, so we should tend to redistribute from young to old. Recently, the young have been worse off either way, which does at least resolve the dilemma.

Another question is whether we should focus on money. That seems natural; money is easy to redistribute. But money is not necessarily what matters most.

Young people have little cash, but they are fitter than the rest of us. They are taut and pert where we are flabby and saggy. And they have yet to have their dreams dashed.

All this becomes abundantly clear when we ask people about how they feel their lives are going. Gallup uses the following question: “Please imagine a ladder, with steps numbered from zero at the bottom to 10 at the top. The top of the ladder represents the best possible life for you and the bottom of the ladder represents the worst possible life for you. On which step of the ladder would you say you personally stand at this time?”

Without exception across the continents, people in their late teens and early twenties tend to give the most positive responses to this question. According to young people, young people are doing just fine.

In Africa and ex-communist nations, life just gets worse as you get older. In anglophone countries, the story is more of a midlife crisis then recovery. There is a dip in people’s life evaluations between the mid-twenties and mid-fifties, followed by a marked improvement; I am 44, which puts me right in the middle of the Slough of Despond.

There may be something quite deep behind this. A team including primatologists, psychologists and the economist Andrew Oswald has even found evidence of a midlife crisis in great apes.

A new research paper from Angus Deaton, Nobel laureate in economics, also finds that we are all persistently disappointed by life. Around the world, people tend to feel that in five years’ time they will have climbed a rung or two on life’s ladder, but most of us fail to do so. It is not quite clear why: did we not get as much money, status and sex as we were hoping for? Or did we get the money, sex and status, but found that it left us wanting?

Prof Deaton explicitly takes on the question of redistributing between the generations, more as a thought experiment than a firm policy proposal. Yet even the thought experiment is intriguing. In the US, he finds that the people who would have their wellbeing most improved by a cash injection are the middle-aged, people between their forties and their sixties. Yes, we have money, but we could really use some more.

The young and the aged do not really need money anyway: they are enjoying themselves regardless. Perhaps they could be prevailed upon to give a bit more to us? I will have a word with my father and my children. I am sure a dose of economic analysis will cure them of any doubts.

My book “Messy: How To Be Creative and Resilient in a Tidy-Minded World” is now available in paperback both in the US and the UK – or through your local bookshop.

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Books to make you feel better about the world

I recently reviewed the excellent Factfulness (UK) (US) by the late Hans Rosling, his son Ola and his daughter-in-law Anna. It’s an absolutely terrific, inspiring, and wise book, which among many other things is likely to make you feel better about the world. This is not because everything is rosy, but because most people’s perceptions of the world are badly skewed by a mixture of outdated ideas, dramatic media stories, and our own instincts to spot the worst and most frightening facts about the world. Hence “Factfulness” is a relaxing condition.

Bravo – everyone should read this book. But there are some others to look out for.

Charles Kenny, in Getting Better (UK) (US), also points to dramatic progress in achieving some (not all) of the goals that really matter, and in showing the connections between economic growth and progress on health, education, freedom and happiness. He also explores what else needs to be done to get the most out of development aid and to make development work for everyone; this is a nice complement to Factfulness, which is more focused on helping people understand the world.

Steven Pinker, in Enlightenment Now (UK) (US) also reviews this progress. But where Pinker differentiates himself is in Better Angels of Our Nature (UK) (US), which even for an optimist like me is surprising in its message that violence, torture and cruelty – measured in a variety of ways – has been in widespread decline for centuries. Well worth your attention, and I found Pinker persuasive in rebutting many of the obvious objections.

Rebecca Solnit’s A Paradise Built In Hell (UK) (US) takes a different tack, telling stories of the way people respond to disasters such as 9/11, Hurricane Katrina or the Blitz. Solnit argues that the famous “stiff upper lip” is a common response across communities. We scare each other with tales of looting and anarchy, but in fact most communities pull together.

One of the best and most thought-provoking books I’ve ever read – although sadly it did not make me feel as good about the world as the others – is David Mackay’s Sustainable Energy Without The Hot Air (UK) (US). David, who died far too young, goes step by step through the way we consume and produce energy, teaching us how to make estimates, what really matters, and what the most promising sustainable energy sources might be. Spoiler alert: sustainable energy will probably involve some very hard choices. Utterly brilliant book and it is available online as a free resource.

I suppose I should mention my own Fifty Things That Made The Modern Economy (UK) (US) – although I don’t see the book as making an argument for progress as such, it’s impossible to ponder the list of ideas and inventions, from the contraceptive pill to the cold chain, the S-bend to the light bulb, without feeling grateful for those who went before us. It’s true that barbed wire was a bit of a mixed blessing and leaded petrol was an unmitigated disaster – but still, where would we be without paper, or beautiful beautiful concrete? A French journalist told me that the book put me squarely in the category of optimistic Anglo-Saxons, so there.

 

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23rd of April, 2018MarginaliaResourcesComments off

Even in Trump’s White House, chaos has its limits

Written for and first published in the Financial Times on 23 March 2018.

“So many people have been leaving the White House. It’s actually been really exciting and invigorating,” said Donald Trump earlier this month. “I like turnover. I like chaos. It really is good.” It is not clear whether he was joking — the remark was made during a light-hearted dinner speech — but, for Mr Trump’s sake, one hopes he meant it.

The past month has seen the resignation of his communications director Hope Hicks, the downgrading of his son-in-law Jared Kushner’s security clearance, the resignation of his senior economic adviser Gary Cohn, the sacking-by-tweet of the secretary of state Rex Tillerson, the escorting-out-of-the-building of his aide John McEntee, the firing of Andrew McCabe, deputy director of the FBI – and now HR McMaster has gone too.

Along the way Mr Trump has railed against the investigations of special counsel Robert Mueller. Chaos reigns.

It remains unclear how much method there is in all this madness, but there may be more than we think. Mr Trump does not drink, but his leadership style is reminiscent of “drunken boxing” — a style of martial arts associated with staggering around unpredictably until your opponent lets his guard down, whereupon you pop him in the mouth.

The disadvantage of chaos is that it is destabilising; the advantage is that it may destabilise your foes more than you. About four decades ago the US military strategist John Boyd (UK) (US) gave a series of influential talks about this idea. Boyd, whose admirers included senior Republican Dick Cheney and management guru Tom Peters, argued for rapid, confusing manoeuvres, improvised if need be, with the aim of disorienting the enemy. Create enough chaos and you could completely paralyse your foe. If the chaos made life uncomfortable for your own side, no matter. Synchronisation, said Boyd, was not for organisations, but for watches.

This messy, improvised approach to tactics is not entirely new. Sun Tzu, the near-mythical author of The Art of War, declared that “quickness is the essence of war”, but also advised being “without ascertainable shape”. This sounds like the incessant, incomprehensible activity of the Trump White House.

It also sounds like the campaign for the UK to leave the EU in 2016. The Brexiters seemed hamstrung by the fact that they ran two mutually suspicious campaigns — Leave.EU and Vote Leave. “It wasn’t one of my adverts,” said Nigel Farage about Vote Leave’s bus, while Boris Johnson said Mr Farage’s inflammatory poster about refugees was “not my campaign” and “not my politics”. This left the Leave campaign, as Sun Tzu advised, “without ascertainable shape”, so voters picked which ever message resonated, while the Remain campaign did not know where to look. Dominic Cummings, of Vote Leave, later said a united Leave campaign would have been easily defeated.

On the battlefield, the master of messy improvisation was the German general Erwin Rommel. He championed swift, energetic action, even if it left his own men scrambling to figure out what was happening. “I have a feeling that things are in a mess,” lamented one Berlin-based general of Rommel’s north Africa campaign in 1941. They were, but for many months the chaos took a worse toll on the British than the Germans.

The same fast-paced seizing of opportunities has worked for some businesses. In the early years of Amazon, Jeff Bezos was clear that he needed to get ahead of rivals such as Barnes & Noble and Toys R Us, even if it meant chaos within Amazon. A more methodical start-up would have been caught and crushed. “It’s a messy process,” Mr Bezos told his biographer, Brad Stone (UK) (US), but there was simply no time to be meticulous. A visitor to an Amazon warehouse in the run-up to Christmas in 1999 would have said the company was a shambles, but the chaos paid off. Amazon bled money but shipped on time, while rivals have been struggling to catch up ever since.

Of course the more ponderous forces of planning and organisation may reassert themselves in the end. Mr Trump has an uncanny ability to dominate the news cycle, change the subject whenever he wants, and turn the spotlight away from his critics and towards himself. This was a huge asset during the election campaign but is a mixed blessing in government.

Facebook’s old mantra, “move fast and break things”, suddenly looks less clever. Mark Zuckerberg must now explain exactly what he has broken.

The Brexiters are running into the limits of the improvisation, ambiguity and self-contradiction that worked so brilliantly as a campaigning strategy, and indeed as a way of managing their own divisions. On a playing field criss-crossed by technical and legal details, EU negotiator Michel Barnier’s ploddingly careful preparation now seems to be paying dividends.

Even the unpredictable Rommel was eventually defeated, by Bernard Montgomery’s cautious and meticulously planned application of force at El Alamein. Montgomery was in no hurry as he assembled everything he needed. Mr Trump may have noticed that Robert Mueller is displaying the same patience.

My book “Messy: How To Be Creative and Resilient in a Tidy-Minded World” is now available in paperback both in the US and the UK – or through your local bookshop.

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The past, present and future of banking

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(Business seals; Rishengchang Museum.)

Not long ago I was fortunate enough to visit the Rishengchang in Pingyao – which I tentatively understand to be the oldest “draft” bank in China, allowing merchants to send money across the nation. Pingyao is well worth a visit, if ever happen to be in that part of China. It put me to thinking about some fine histories of money and banking I’ve read in the past few years.

I knew a little about the Chinese system of Feiquan or “flying money” from reading William Goetzmann’s excellent Money Changes Everything (UK) (US), which has a vast trove of material on money and finance in China.

Fifty Things That Made the Modern Economy (UK) (US) also described the Chinese inventions of paper, paper money, and forms of banking. I just loved the way that paper money blew Marco Polo’s mind.

For another magisterial take on money and banking, try Felix Martin’s Money: An Unauthorised Biography (UK) (US).  Martin writes deftly and his book, especially the first half of it, is packed with fascinating historical anecdote and colour.

For a take on banking in the great depression, try Lords of Finance (UK) (US) by Liaquat Ahamed. This book won the FT’s Business Book of the Year award a few years back – a riveting account of how the Great Depression could have been prevented, and wasn’t.

And for the present and future of banking, I strong recommend John Kay’s Other People’s Money (UK) (US), which begins with the question: if we were designing a financial system to do what we say a financial system is supposed to do, would it look anything like Wall Street today? (Spoiler: the answer is no.) Kay is an elegant writer, a well-informed historian and a superb economist. This is a terrific book.

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16th of April, 2018MarginaliaResourcesComments off

Stephen Hawking’s restless scientific curiosity pulled us all in

A few months ago, my teenage daughter and I went to see a lecture by Stephen Hawking at Oxford’s Mathematical Institute. The event had been postponed once because he was unwell; I worried that his body might finally give out, albeit five decades later than doctors had expected. Yet a new date was set and Hawking duly arrived, as if from another world, to deliver a spellbinding talk in his distinctive synthetic voice.

I had given a lecture myself at the same venue earlier, striking a pessimistic tone: it was easy to pollute the stream of conversation about science and statistics, I said, and simply intoning the facts would not dispel misinformation. Hawking, who died this week, went some way to restoring my hope. He showed that it was possible to communicate difficult ideas, if you went about it in the right way.

What was his secret? He acknowledged that his disability attracted the spotlight, but there was much more going on than the spectacle of a brilliant mind in a malfunctioning body.

First, he did not patronise his audience: presenting the most complicated ideas was a sign that he respected our intelligence. If we did not grasp everything, we would still be better off for having tried.

“I know the book is difficult,” he commented after his A Brief History of Time (UK) (US) had become a bestseller. “It does not matter too much if people can’t follow all the arguments. They can still get the flavour of the intellectual quest.”

That instinct was right. His talk demanded concentration. Most of it was beyond my daughter. Much of it was beyond me. Then Hawking would crack a joke about hairy black holes, and the audience would all be back on the same page, laughing, and ready for another attempt to scale the intellectual heights.

Second, he was immensely curious. “My goal is simple, “ he said. “It is a complete understanding of the universe, why it is as it is and why it exists at all.”

That sort of curiosity is contagious. It makes us want to join his hunt for answers, rather than passively receiving (or rejecting) information from an expert who claims to know them already.

The third quality followed from the first two: unlike some public intellectuals, Hawking was not very interested in conflict for the sake of it. The economist Paul Krugman and the biologist Richard Dawkins are instructive contrasts to Hawking: both are brilliant communicators, but they often present their ideas as a battle between good and evil, wisdom and stupidity.

When you have a noble cause it can be tempting to pursue it in an antagonistic way: Economy, a charity that aims to improve economics literacy, has been fundraising with an endorsement from writer George Monbiot saying that economists are “a pox on the planet”.

These insults seem to work, at first. If you call out your opponents as fools, knaves, or even transmissible diseases, you enthuse your own supporters. But you will win few new converts when every issue becomes a matter of tribal loyalty.

We humans are social creatures. Given a choice between being right on a partisan question (abortion, guns, Brexit, globalisation, climate change) and having mistaken views that our friends and neighbours support, we would rather be wrong and stay in the tribe. This becomes clear in surveys of views on climate change: college-educated Republicans and Democrats are further apart on the topic than those who are less educated.

If our goal is to persuade, the curiosity-driven approach works better than the conflict-driven one: the evidence suggests that curious people are less subject to the temptations of partisanship. When the national conversation becomes polarised, we need to encourage curiosity about how things work rather than them-and-us tribalism.

Hawking, of course, did have robust political views. He criticised the UK health secretary Jeremy Hunt for cherry-picking evidence on the National Health Service and spoke out against Brexit. But after the referendum went the other way, he continued to argue in favour of mutual understanding and solving problems together, rather than dismissing voters as ignorant.

If experts want to persuade us to wrap our minds around a complex issue, they need to get us to abandon our cynicism towards unwelcome information. It does no harm to be the most recognisable scientist on the planet, but Hawking also understood that insults do not work. Instead, he treated us with respect and fired our enthusiasm.

Towards the end of his lecture, after a difficult discussion of quantum effects near the boundary of a black hole, Hawking offered a simpler idea: “If you feel you are in a black hole, don’t give up. There is a way out.”

It was a message any teenager could hold on to. I sat next to my daughter and thought about how Hawking had lived such a rich life under the burden of an apparently unbeatable illness.

We have been told that people have had enough of experts. That is true for some experts. It wasn’t true for Stephen Hawking.

 

 

Written for and first published in the Financial Times on 16 March 2018.

My book “Messy: How To Be Creative and Resilient in a Tidy-Minded World” is now available in paperback both in the US and the UK – or through your local bookshop.

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In praise of Factfulness

“I use normal statistics that are compiled by the World Bank and the United Nations. This is not controversial. These facts are not up for discussion. I am right and you are wrong.”

That was Hans Rosling, delivering a celebrated smackdown  on Danish television to a journalist with an excessively gloomy view of the world. And although the quote displays just one facet of the the late Professor Rosling, it isn’t a bad place to start in considering his posthumous book, Factfulness (UK) (US). Rosling takes something rather ordinary – “normal statistics” – and turns it into a passionate, witty, and encouraging view of the world that also happens to be far more realistic than the “realists” have to offer.

Hans Rosling – perhaps most famous for a series of hugely popular TED talks – was the greatest and most versatile communicator I ever met. He would use spectacular graphics, but also props such as jugs of juice, bayonets (for his sword-swallowing demonstrations) and rolls of toilet paper. He was a magnificent storyteller, an inspiring guide to a complex world, and – when the situation demanded it – could display flashes of righteous anger. He was also much more than a showman: he spent long periods of time living in poorer countries and working for underfunded healthcare systems across the world, most recently participating in the fight against Ebola in Liberia.

Factfulness was co-written with his daughter-in-law Anna and his son Ola, although it is in Hans’s distinctive voice. It is a wonderful guide to an improving world, as well as being a well-stocked source of sound advice as to how to think about factual and statistical claims. The book identifies ten often-unhelpful instincts, such as the Negativity instinct (we, and our media, find sudden bad news more interesting and memorable than slow-burn good news) or the Destiny instinct (we feel that some things never change – that, for example, Nigeria will always be poor for “cultural reasons”, when in fact all societies, including modern western societies, are constantly learning and changing). And it suggests antidotes or reality checks for these instincts.

This structure works well enough, but the real joy of the book is the string of surprising facts and unforgettable stories to illustrate them: the Tanzanian midwife whose dearest wish was for a torch, so that when walking barefoot at night to a birth she could spot snakes more easily; the time Hans Rosling’s student nearly lost a leg because she tried to keep open the door of an Indian elevator (which, unlike Swedish elevators, did not have a safety sensor fitted); Rosling nearly drowning in sewage (in Sweden); Rosling thinking on his feet to avoid eating lavae in Congo; Rosling being humbled by the quality of his fellow medical students in Bangalore; and Rosling confessing to numerous mistakes over the course of his life, some embarrassing and some tragic.

The book is a pleasure to read – simple, clear, memorable writing – and when you’ve finished you’ll be a lot wiser about the world. You’ll also feel rather happier, because while Hans Rosling has seen far more suffering and premature death than most of us ever will, he also saw that suffering and premature death are on the retreat almost everywhere. Hence, “Factfulness” – the relaxing peace of mind you get when you have a clearer view of how the world really is.

I strongly recommend this book. (UK) (US)

Meanwhile here is a programme about the fight against Ebola that we made with Hans a couple of years ago; here is a radio obituary; here is an interview I conducted with him on our first meeting; and here is my favourite Hans Rosling talk.

My book “Messy: How To Be Creative and Resilient in a Tidy-Minded World” is now available in paperback both in the US and the UK – or through your local bookshop.

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11th of April, 2018MarginaliaComments off

My favourite indy projects

I am, of course, not sure what the definition of “indy” really is these days, but I’ll leave that one to the philosophers.

I’ve written before about Can You Brexit? (Without breaking Britain) (UK) (US) – a fabulous, well-researched and very funny choose-your-own-story gamebook by Dave Morris and Jamie Thompson. It casts you in the role of the Prime Minister the morning after the Brexit referendum, in a parallel but highly-recognisable universe. (The leader of the Labour party is the dishevelled hard-leftist “Barry Scraggle”, while one of the leading Brexiters is the near-Edwardian “Tobias Tode”.) The book achieves two notable feats: it makes the chewy details of Brexit engaging, and one starts to sympathise – or at least empathise – with the plight of the Prime Minister who has the impossible task of keeping all sides happy.

For music, try the remarkable loops of Duotone, aka Barney Morse-Brown. It’s hypnotic, and he is the most astonishingly talented musician. (One of his side gigs, I believe, is that he plays cello for Birdy.) Ropes (UK) (US) was my introduction to Duotone, but his new album “A Life Reappearing” is out very soon – here’s the single, “Martha”.

I’m still loving Amazing Tales by Martin Lloyd, a lavishly illustrated, simple and elegant role-playing game for parents and young children to enjoy together – often in the time it might take to enjoy a bedtime story. My 6 year old has just created a new character, “Death Man”, whose special skills include “Smashing” and “Eating”. Marvellous. Martin has pared role-playing to its essentials, designed a system that involves rolling funny-shaped dice (indispensable), and offered many ideas for keeping things fast and fun and not too scary.

And while my podcast feed is packed with high-production-value shows assembled by large production teams with talented presenters, somehow whenever Futility Closet drops into the feed, I pause everything to listen to Greg and Sharon Ross chat about the latest quirky historical story, go through an increasingly thought-provoking mailbag, and solve a lateral thinking puzzle. Production values have improved, but the show still sounds a little amateurish in the best possible way. Unique, engaging, and well worth a listen.

 

My book “Messy: How To Be Creative and Resilient in a Tidy-Minded World” is now available in paperback both in the US and the UK – or through your local bookshop.

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10th of April, 2018MarginaliaComments off

A clever nudge to improve diversity

In the introduction to my book, The Undercover Economist, I invite readers to imagine that, as they leaf through the pages, there’s an economist sitting nearby. Because he’s an economist, he sees things — hidden patterns, curious puzzles — that they might not notice. The book had been out for a decade when a young economist wrote to me. She had a simple question: why was my undercover economist a “he”?

I was reminded of the question this week by the musician David Byrne’s embarrassment. Mr Byrne, formerly of Talking Heads, has just realised that his new album is a string of collaborations with men. He apologised for being “part of the problem”.

It is easy for white men in a white man’s world to do this sort of thing without malice — almost by default. Sometimes we need a nudge to do better. Frances McDormand has just such a nudge in mind. Accepting her second Oscar for best actress on Sunday, she invited every female nominee in the room to stand up. “Look around, ladies and gentlemen, because we all have stories to tell and projects we need financed,” she said. Adding a final enigmatic phrase: “inclusion rider”.

Inclusion rider? The idea was proposed a couple of years ago by media researcher Stacy Smith. Ms Smith observed that minor characters could easily be demographically representative of a film’s setting — which is likely to mean more women, more ethnic minorities and more disabled actors on screen. An A-List celebrity could simply insist on this requirement — an inclusion rider — in his or her contract.

This is a clever nudge. A straightforward demand for “more diversity”, however reasonable, can be evaded. A black Superman or female Gandalf apparently feels too bold for some studio executives. But the inclusion rider clause is specific and straightforward to satisfy; nobody is going to die in a ditch to make sure that straight white men get all the bit-part roles. Off-screen jobs could be covered, too. And it’s easy to imagine Hollywood A-listers throwing their weight around on this point.

There is no doubt that Hollywood movies fail any reasonable test of being demographically representative. The most famous test — imperfect but instructive — is named after cartoonist Alison Bechdel. To pass, a movie must contain two women, who talk to each other about something other than a man. A low bar, it might seem, but a surprising number of movies fail.

Despite some prominent examples of more diverse casting (the recent superhero movies Wonder Woman and Black Panther and the Oscar-winning Moonlight, which ironically fails the Bechdel test) it is not obvious that the situation is improving. Even online reviews are dominated by male reviewers.

We shouldn’t blame Hollywood alone for this. Data scientist Ben Blatt, author of Nabokov’s Favourite Word Is Mauve (UK) (US) conducted a computer-aided analysis both of recent fiction bestsellers and classics of the literary canon. One simple test: how often does the word “he” appear, relative to the word “she”?

In The Hobbit (US) (UK), JRR Tolkien’s adventure story that contains a variety of fairytale protagonists, none of them with wombs, the word “he” is used 1,900 times. The word “she” appears only once, referring to Bilbo’s mother. That is an outlier, but Mr Blatt found that many male novelists wrote about a world in which the opposite sex barely existed. This was far less true for female authors.

The economics profession has a particular problem when it comes to diversity, according to research by economists Amanda Bayer and Cecilia Elena Rouse. In the US, more than 50 per cent of both bachelor’s and doctoral “Stem” degrees — science, technology, engineering and mathematics — are now awarded to women. But, in economics, the proportion is just 30 per cent and shows no sign of improvement. Economics is also behind the curve in including some ethnic minorities.

To the extent this reflects discrimination, or a hostile environment for women, that is a disgrace. And if it is purely, or even partially, that young women don’t find economics appealing, we economists should be asking why not. A monoculture in academia is unfair, and it leads to blind spots, like the significance of unpaid housework.

One recent study is a nice reminder that a more inclusive environment can pay dividends. The Norwegian Defence Research Establishment randomly assigned female recruits into mostly male squads of six. During eight weeks of boot camp, the squad members trained together and shared a single dormitory. The experiment markedly shifted the attitudes of the men, with substantial increases in their evaluation of mixed-gender teams, and more egalitarian views on women and housework. “Gender stereotypes are malleable and can be altered by integrating,” noted the economists who ran the experiment.

There is a vast difference between an eight-week boot camp and the experience of watching a movie or reading a book that reflects our diversity. Still, we make what progress we can. I shall follow the topic of inclusion riders with interest. And the mysterious protagonist of The Undercover Economist? That street-smart enigma is now a “she”.
Written for and first published in the Financial Times on 9 March 2018.

My book “Messy: How To Be Creative and Resilient in a Tidy-Minded World” is now available in paperback both in the US and the UK – or through your local bookshop.

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Five of the best introductions to economics

I’m often asked which economics books I recommend to someone who wants to get a good introduction to the subject. There are some obvious choices – a good textbook, for example – and of course I wrote The Undercover Economist (UK) (US) and The Undercover Economist Strikes Back (UK) (US) to be the very best introductions to microeconomics and macroeconomics I could manage.

But of course there’s so much more, and I wanted to make a few suggestions.

Thinking Strategically (UK) (US) by Avinash Dixit and Barry Nalebuff is the book that made me fall in love with economics. Without it I’d have dropped the subject completely at university. Thinking Strategically is an introduction to game theory – a mathematical analysis of human vs. human interaction from a tennis match to a salary negotiation. There’s not much maths in the book, but just enough to make the point. The writing is lively and the insights are full of counterintuitive wisdoms. Excellent stuff.

Money Changes Everything (UK) (US) by William Goetzmann was a real inspiration for the financial sections of Fifty Things That Made the Modern Economy (UK) (US). Goetzmann goes deep into the history of financial ideas from money itself to insurance to banking. A detailed and scholarly book, but never a dull moment.

Hidden Order (UK) (US) by David Friedman is a brilliant alternative to a microeconomics textbook. Friedman is a libertarian – even more so than his father Milton – and the politics emerges from time to time in this book, but there’s no shame in that. It is scintillatingly clear about how economic theory fits together, and full of clever thought experiments. [EDIT 12 June 2018. Some people have asked, “Why not ‘The Armchair Economist’ by Steven Landsburg?” Well, why not indeed? It’s a superb book: (UK) (US). But I see it as a close substitute for Hidden Order; the two books share some of the same ideas and tone. I like them both very much.]

The Truth About Markets (UK) (US) by John Kay presents the flip side to Friedman: where Friedman sees simplicity, Kay warns that markets are a little messier and more socially embedded. Unlike many critics of classical economics, Kay understands exactly what he is chipping away at, and both the genius and the limits of the market. A wonderful book – and prescient in many ways.

Grand Pursuit (UK) (US) by Sylvia Nasar is a magisterial history of economic thought: Marshall, Robinson, Keynes, Fisher and the rest. A real education for a history-of-thought ignoramus like me. (On a similar theme, I’m looking forward to reading the brand new The Great Economists (UK) (US) by Linda Yueh, which looks good.)

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