Other Writing

In defence of PowerPoint

I am about to do something rash, which is to disagree with Lucy Kellaway. Last week, the fearless observer of business follies went too far: she called for PowerPoint to be banned.

The prosecution’s argument is simple: many PowerPoint presentations are very bad. This is true but it hardly makes the case for a ban. Serviceable tools can produce awful results in the wrong hands, as anyone who has seen me put up shelves can attest. Banning the screwdriver is not the answer.

So it is with PowerPoint. It’s an unromantic, practical piece of kit. It is often used poorly. It is not the most elegant tool, but botched jobs must be blamed on the workman. Many of the bad presentations people deliver with the help of PowerPoint would have been bad presentations in any case. Would it have been better to hear the impromptu ramblings of a nervous speaker in total cognitive meltdown? Or to watch a piece of professionally produced but irrelevant film, in the dark? Many readers will remember corporate life before PowerPoint. It was no lost Eden.

PowerPoint is not the world’s most wonderful piece of software. The built-in templates have long been ugly, the clip-art tacky and the animations risible. As if determined to deliver on the name, it inserts bullet points into text with little provocation. It is harder than it should be simply to make all the letters line up. (I am still using PowerPoint 2003. By all means dismiss this column as the ranting of a corporate shill.)

Yet for all its flaws, PowerPoint performs two useful tasks well enough. It quickly allows one to compose speaking notes and to create slides showing images and graphs. The trouble starts when people confuse the two jobs.

There is nothing wrong with jotting down speaking notes as a memory aid. PowerPoint is as good a way of doing this as any, especially if you have handwriting like mine. For the vast majority of speakers, such speaking notes are preferable to the alternatives, including memorising, ad-libbing on the spot or writing the whole speech out and reading it in a wooden monotone.

The problem is that for some baffling reason, many speakers decide to project their speaking notes on to a wall rather than printing them out, postcard size, and sticking them on to 3×5 inch cards. I often sketch out my speeches with the help of PowerPoint. I just prefer to keep the slides to myself.

The second use of PowerPoint is to project visual aids on to a screen. This it does perfectly well – and the clichéd clip-art of yesteryear is now almost extinct. These days people “borrow” cartoons from Dilbert, or grab photos from the web. The effect is often pleasing enough.

It would be better if people learnt a bit about fonts, and better still if they learnt that by pressing “B” they could temporarily blank the screen. But one cannot have everything.

Lucy approvingly mentions a famous condemnation of PowerPoint by the brilliant information designer Edward Tufte. Professor Tufte attacks PowerPoint partly for its “relentless sequentiality, one damn slide after another” and partly for the asymmetric relationship between speaker and “followers”.

This is odd because Tufte does not acknowledge that he is really assaulting the idea of public speaking itself. What could be more relentlessly sequential than a speech? One damn word in front of another. If you hate the very idea of a speech, fine. But say so.

It would take little to improve greatly the quality of most people’s PowerPoint presentations – far less than it would take to improve the quality of corporate Newspeak. So why call for a ban?

The true problem is far more troubling. It is that in a corporate environment, we are asked to read prose by people who cannot write and watch performances given by people with neither the talent nor the training to perform. For some reason these amateurs are better paid than most writers and performers. There is something depressing about all this, but the blame cannot be pinned on PowerPoint.

I cannot finish without confronting the greatest sin in my version of PowerPoint: the “AutoContent” function, which sketches out a speech if you cannot do it yourself. AutoContent, The New Yorker once reported, was named as a joke, in “outright mockery of its target customers”. The very idea of the function is pernicious indeed but the real horror is that it was created to satisfy a demand.

Fortunately, that demand may have worked itself out, too: AutoContent was discontinued in 2007.

First published in the Financial Times, 25 July 2011

Regrets? I’ve had a few

Can failure really be a spur to success? By Tim Harford and Emma Jacobs
First published in FT Magazine 4 June 2011

One June evening in the summer of 2002, the Shubert Theatre in Chicago played host to a new ballet/musical, Movin’ Out. The show was an unlikely collaboration between Twyla Tharp, a dynamic and challenging choreographer, and the songwriter Billy Joel. It was scheduled to open on Broadway that October, but the critics hated it, offering reviews varying from “stupefyingly clichéd and almost embarrassingly naive” to “pile-driving and ill-conceived”.
So enthusiastic was the criticism that the New York paper Newsday broke with tradition to reprint one of the choicer reviews, well in advance of the Broadway opening. It was left to Twyla Tharp, who had dreamed up the project and directed and choreographed it, to somehow fix the multi-million-dollar mess.
Tharp’s experience, as related in her book The Creative Habit, exemplifies the textbook response to failure: she took the criticism on board, made the necessary changes to her show, and opened on Broadway to glowing reviews. The show won two Tony awards, one for Tharp’s choreography.
The story of Movin’ Out is striking not just because it offers an inspiring narrative of adversity and triumph, but because this sort of transformation is unusual. The idea that one should bounce back from failures is an old one. King Robert the Bruce’s eventually successful war against the English is said to have been inspired by a persistent spider spinning a web in the cave where he was hiding. This was eight centuries ago, yet suddenly the idea seems fashionable – perhaps because there is a lot of failure to go round these days.
In the abstract, learning from your mistakes is an easy and uncontroversial idea. In practice, the whole, facile concept is shot through with difficulty. Who is to say that a mistake has been made? Are the lessons to be learnt really so obvious?
We approached public figures – entrepreneurs, artists, politicians and, of course, bankers – associated with spectacular setbacks of one form or another, asking them to explain what effect the failure had had on them. There were few takers, and one of the refusals – from the former chief executive of a failed bank – was particularly colourful. It seems that these redemptive stories of “learning from mistakes” are less inspiring from the wrong end of the steamroller. Continue →

Top 10 Economists on Twitter

Twitter’s top 10 economists (17 May 2011) (previously)
@CMEGroup Chicago Mercantile Exchange 783,327 followers
@NYTimesKrugman Paul Krugman, Nobel Laureate & columnist 594,331 followers
@andrewrsorkin Andrew Ross Sorkin, NYT Dealbook 372,242 followers
@freakonomics The Freakonomics blog 331,018 followers
@WSJ_Econ Real Time economics from the Wall Street Journal 214,778 followers
@planetmoney NPR’s Planet Money 191,244 followers
@umairh Umair Haque, HBR 146,450
@Richard_Florida Richard Florida, Urbanist 122,963
@PKedrosky Paul Kedrosky, Financial commentator 120,287 followers
@nouriel Nouriel Roubini, Economic forecaster 49,501 followers

Or follow the full Top 10 at this list.

Honourable mentions:
@dambisamoyo Dambisa Moyo, Aid Sceptic 43,063 followers
@evanHD Evan Davis, formerly BBC economics editor 30,500 followers
@DavidMcW David McWilliams, Irish popular economist 32,442 followers
@jeffdsachs Jeffrey Sachs, Columbia University 25,283 followers
@FelixSalmon Felix Salmon Finance blogger, Reuters 25,190 followers
@TimHarford Tim Harford, Undercover Economist at the Financial Times, 19,323 followers (that’s me)
@Paulmasonnews Paul Mason, economics editor of BBC Newsnight 14,029 followers
@Bill_Easterly Bill Easterly, New York University 13,947 followers
@danariely Dan Ariely, Behavioural psychologist 12,393 followers
@tylercowen Tyler Cowen, curator of Marginal Revolution 9,551 followers
@DavidMWessel David Wessel Wall Street Journal’s Economics Editor 9,867 followers
@crampell Catherine Rampell, Economix Blog editor 6,755 followers
@EconEconomics Economics news from The Economist 7,725 followers
@ritholtz Barry Ritholtz, blogger 7353 followers
@DLeonhardt David Leonhardt, New York Times columnist 5,246 followers
@EconTalker Russ Roberts, econ professor and host of EconTalk 3,761 followers
@cblatts Chris Blattman, Political scientist 3,934 followers
@B_Eichengreen Barry Eichengreen, economics professor 3,423 followers
@plegrain Philippe Legrain, author 2,323 followers
@diane1859 Diane Coyle, The Enlightened Economist 2,025 followers
@AndrewSimms_NEF Andrew Simms, New Economics Foundation 1,613 followers
@dsmitheconomics David Smith, Economics editor, Sunday Times 1,444 followers
@joshgans Joshua Gans, Professor of Economics and author of Parentonomics 987 followers
@dismalscientist Tweets from Moody’s Analytics, 943 followers
@tutor2u_econ Resources for economics teachers 849 followers
@leighblue Leigh Caldwell, behavioural economist 735 followers
@OlafStorbeck Olaf Storbeck, Economics editor, Handelsblatt 560 followers

Feel free to email [undercovereconomist AT gmail] or tweet [ @timharford ] with further suggestions. I’ll update this post from time to time. Comments are open.

===

Update: Can’t incorporate them all immediately but I have received these recommendations:
@deankarlan @rodrikdani @Shanta_WB @m_clem @BBCStephanie @ayittey @gdemom @delong @l_haddad @charlesjkenny @dannyquah @andypsumner @moss_d @vijramachandran @altmandaniel @went1955 @markthoma @mattbish @jodiecongirl @jappleby123

Lessons in adapting from the War in Iraq

I wrote this essay for the Freakonomics blog.

In the spring of 1980, President Jimmy Carter gave the go-ahead for a daring special-operations mission calledEagle Claw. Fifty-two American hostages had been trapped for months in Tehran under a newly hostile revolutionary government, and negotiations appeared to have broken down. The operation called for helicopters and refueling aircraft to fly into the Iranian desert at night, under the radar screen, rendezvous in the middle of nowhere, refuel, and hide during the daylight hours. The helicopters were then to fly into the heart of Tehran. Special forces were to kill or subdue resistance, liberate the hostages, and then – via another desert refueling rendezvous – escape to the USS Nimitz, an aircraft carrier off the Iranian coast. The operation suffered bad weather, bad luck – a busload of Iranian travelers blundered into the rendezvous point against all odds – and arguably bad decision-making. The mission was aborted half way through, a helicopter and a refueling aircraft crashed into each other at the rendezvous, and eight soldiers died.

The counterinsurgency specialist Andrew Exum drew my attention to the Eagle Claw failure after special forces killed Osama bin Laden: the circumstances were superficially similar but the results were very different.

“I’m thinking Tim should add our special operations forces as a case study in time for the paperback,” Exum wrote, nodding toward my book. “You cannot understand why the U.S. military was able to execute this extraordinary operation deep in the heart of Pakistan without first understanding the failures of Iran in 1980.” Continue →

The aeroplane that saved the world: an extract from Adapt

In 1931, the British Air Ministry sent out a demanding new specification for a fighter aircraft. It was a remarkable document for two reasons. The first was that throughout its existence the Royal Air Force had been dismissive of fighters. The conventional wisdom was that bombers could not be stopped. Instead, foreshadowing the nuclear doctrine of mutually assured destruction, the correct use of air power was widely presumed to be to build the largest possible fleet of bombers and strike any enemy with overwhelming force. The second reason was that the specification’s demands seemed almost impossible to meet. Rather than rely on known technology, the bureaucrats wanted aviation engineers to abandon their orthodoxies and produce something completely new.The immediate response was disappointing: three designs were selected for prototyping, and none of them proved to be much use. The Air Ministry briefly went so far as to consider ordering aircraft from Poland.Even more remarkable than the initial specification was the response of the ministry to this awkward failure. One of the competing firms, Supermarine, had delivered its prototype late and well below specification. But when Supermarine approached the ministry with a radical new design, an enterprising civil servant by the name of Air Commodore Henry Cave-Browne-Cave decided to bypass the regular commissioning process and order the new plane as “a most interesting experiment.” The plane was the Supermarine Spitfire.

Continued at Slate – or find out more about the book.

The Art of Economic Complexity – New York Times Magazine

New York Times Magazine – 15 May 2011 – Graphic by CÉSAR A. HIDALGO and ALEX SIMOES

These diagrams are the early fruits of a new approach to the most important unsolved problem of the last century: how to make a rich country out of a poor one. Development economists have many theories about how the trick is done but few proven answers. A compelling solution would be useful closer to home, too: understanding the process of economic development would help us work out whether it matters that service jobs are replacing manufacturing ones or whether there is anything the government can and should do to stimulate new industries like biotechnology or green energy.
Strip away the mathematical language of economists, and conventional theories of economic growth are rather crude. Economies produce “stuff,” and if you want more stuff to come out of the process, put more stuff in (like human capital, say). Yet economies do not produce stuff so much as billions of distinct types of goods — perhaps 10 billion, according to Eric Beinhocker of the McKinsey Global Institute — ranging from size 34 dark stonewash bootcut jeans to beauty therapies involving avocado. The difference between China’s economy and that of the United States is not simply that China’s is smaller; it has a different structure entirely…

Continued on NYTimes.com

Commissar Osborne grits his teeth

FT Comment – 13 May 2011
Higher inflation and lower growth: the Bank of England’s latest economic forecasts, delivered one day before the UK coalition government’s first anniversary, cannot have been a terribly welcome gift. Like any well brought-up recipient of a hideous hand-knitted cardigan, George Osborne, the chancellor of the exchequer, smiled through gritted teeth and pronounced himself well pleased. Faced with this troubled economy, what should the coalition do next?
Politically, I have no idea: the British are not used to coalitions government, and they have not looked kindly on its junior partners. Having handcuffed himself to David Cameron, the Liberal Democrat leader Nick Clegg has found the prime minister walking safely on the political pavement while he trudges sadly through the gutter, splattered by the muck of every controversy. It seems only a matter of time before the leader of the Lib Dems is flattened by a metaphorical bus. Continue →

Failure: It’s everywhere

I wrote this essay for the Freakonomics blog.

In 1982, the management consultants Tom Peters and Robert Waterman published In Search of Excellence, a colossally popular business title. The book aimed to learn lessons from the world’s best companies, and Peters and Waterman produced a list of 43. But just a couple of years after In Search of Excellence had been published, BusinessWeek ran a cover story with the simple title: “Oops! Who’s Excellent Now?” Almost a third of the companies singled out for praise by Peters and Waterman were in financial trouble.

My aim isn’t to mock Peters and Waterman, but to point out that the rise and fall of business models is an unavoidable part of economic growth. In a complex world, things fail – a lot. Continue →

George Osborne, an unlikely Robin Hood

George Osborne, we were told, would be offering a “Robin Hood” budget. It is a bold piece of branding, ranking alongside Jeremy Clarkson’s heartfelt environmentalism. In most ways after all, the chancellor with his privileged upbringing is an unlikely Robin Hood.

But Mr Osborne is trying to tap into something rather deep in the nation’s psyche: the idea that the country is stuffed full of super-rich bankers, tax-evading multinationals and Lear-Jet-riding non-doms, and that he, Mr Osborne, is keen to rob from them to give to the rest of us.

Movements such as UK Uncut argue that if only Mr Osborne had the courage to play Robin Hood, the deficit could be banished without the need for cuts or tax rises for ordinary voters. About £80bn a year should do the trick. But are £80bn a year of easily harvested tax revenues simply sitting there, begging for Mr Osborne to collect them? Continue →

Board gaming with the FT: Michael Lewis

“This game is going to end up like the tortoise and the hare,” Michael Lewis declares, halfway through his inaugural game of Saint Petersburg. Lewis’s green wooden pawn is well ahead on the board, but he’s already picked up enough of the game to realise that – to paraphrase one of the characters he describes in his book The Big Short – he’s about to get his eyeballs ripped out.

It is hard to understand quite why Lewis has agreed that I will teach him an obscure modern German board game while he is interviewed. Poker would have seemed the obvious choice. Liar’s Poker, Lewis’s description of the surreal Wall Street world he inhabited for two years as a bond trader at Salomon Brothers, was definitive of an era and, to some extent, of Lewis’s own career as a narrative writer. But Lewis isn’t interested.

“I haven’t played poker since I was in high school,” he says. “It would be false to portray me as a gambler. It bores me. It’s always bored me.”

Was that why he left Salomon Brothers to become a writer? “No. It was fun gambling with other people’s money. I liked that.”

In a small meeting room in a Mayfair hotel, the logistics are awkward: I can’t take notes and it’s hard even to talk because we’re concentrating on the board. Even a simple game can be baffling to a first-timer, and Saint Petersburg is not a particularly simple game. It describes the building of the city by Peter the Great and his minions (but the theme is very loose: the artwork depicts Czarist Russia).

Players buy cards which provide a flow either of roubles – the currency to buy more cards – or of victory points, which advance the player’s pawn and bring victory closer. There are four types of cards: aristocrats, who supply money and victory points and a bonus at the end; buildings, which supply victory points; peasants, who supply money; and upgrades, which improve the other three types. Returns on investment are very high, but there are never enough roubles to buy all the bargains on offer.

I am about to offer some opening hints when Lewis cuts me off. “Don’t tell me tactics. You don’t have to tell me. I’ll screw up. I’d rather just get beaten, and learn that way.”

We play in fits and starts, for the first half hour talking only about the game and its rules, before switching to Lewis himself while the game is forgotten for a while.

I’ve been reading The Big Short, his account of the men who bet against the subprime bubble, and express my baffled admiration at his ability to get inside the heads of his characters. One, the hedge fund owner-manager Michael Burry, gave him access to every e-mail he had ever sent. “God’s gift to the narrative writer was Michael Burry’s e-mail trove. He lived his life via e-mail.”

But how does he persuade people to give him such access?

“I never really thought about it. I’ve had so many people enter into the spirit of the arrangement. It starts with the relationship before it becomes a literary engagement. It’s a very long-term investment.”

The only time he’s had someone pull out after beginning such a relationship was with George Soros, whom he had accompanied on a private plane all over eastern Europe in 1994. Lewis published a magazine piece which suggested that Soros’s qualities as a philosopher were overrated.

“He was furious with the piece. It just said what I thought. Is it my turn?”

“Your turn.”

Lewis is fascinated at the revelation that Germany is the world’s board-game heartland. “This game is all about trade-offs … it’s made for the Anglo-Saxon Protestant work ethic. The Greeks would never appreciate it.” He tries to persuade me to write a piece about the German response to the euro crisis, using board games as a motif.

Although I am building a winning position, producing a flow of roubles that will in due course allow me to buy what I need to overtake Lewis, he understands what is going on. He knows why he’s going to lose. After I reap a particularly profitable investment, Lewis expresses alarm.

“Sorry,” I offer.

“That’s OK.”

Talk turns to Lewis’s upbringing in New Orleans. His father had a largely hands-off philosophy, but begged Lewis not to turn down Princeton in favour of a life in New Orleans with his high-school sweetheart. “He went white and said, ‘I’ve never told you what to do, but don’t do this.’”

Lewis followed his father’s advice. “It was the right decision. But I really was in love with that girl, and it ended up ending our relationship. And I always felt I violated something in me, making that decision.” When the time came to quit Salomon, he steeled himself against any further paternal entreaties.

. . .

Explaining his decision to leave Salomon, he casually compares the $40,000 book contract to the $250,000 salary and potentially millions more – big sums in the late 1980s. But he insists that money does not motivate him.

“I grew up with a mother who came from a pretty wealthy family – in fact a very wealthy family by New Orleans standards – and my father was kind of a poor boy.” By the age of nine he’d abandoned any sense that money brought fulfilment, because “my father’s family was so happy and my mother’s family so miserable”.

Although there is outrage in Lewis’s descriptions of high finance, it is muted by the fact that he seems to regard much of life on Wall Street as risible. His former tutor at the London School of Economics, a certain Mervyn King, didn’t always see the funny side.

“Four or five months after I got the job at Salomon, the head of the London office comes over to me and says, ‘We’ve got this guy in the lobby. He’s the academic adviser to the new FSA, and he’s been sent in to see how the markets really work and nobody wants to sit with him. Could you sit with him?’ It was Mervyn.”

After three hours “listening to me selling people stuff”, King asked what Lewis was paid.

“It was two-and-a-half times what they were paying him to teach me at LSE. And he was, ‘This is just criminal, this is outrageous.’ He couldn’t believe it.”

I realise that Lewis has been hoping to overtake me, banker-style, by scooping a big bonus score at the last gasp, but he has missed a subtlety of the scoring and gets less than he hoped. He is, in any case, too far behind for any bonus to help him. The final score – 197 to 147 – is a comfortable win for me, but no disgrace to my pupil. We’ve been playing and talking for two hours.

“How do you feel?” he asks me.

“Pretty scummy, actually.”

“No that’s alright, that’s alright. I learned.”

…………………………………………..

Also published at ft.com.