{"id":"5fca017a6cee07000677d0f6","slug":"licence-to-be-bad-en","title":"Licence to be Bad","audio_url":"https://hls.blinkist.io/bibs/5fca017a6cee07000677d0f6/5fca017a6cee07000677d0f8-T1607074254.m4a?Expires=1652843202&Signature=GIg0f4wR-rramAADiMkuMfLk0FBP0WEr9775E~jY~d6pSZnbczWAveRSdantsFfhfR37j7DjKLSDy69FCoDog6EA8x17osp~gx1Wb58kA2XmmayY-n~YCwKTGOymMiNXl~FvXD6KtYM5YJcH92gIoueB02e2u8v~ry6~gcEDXPEl3d3arCOETwvAsXnYQYc3AHx00ut7Pm7ZXtfsYE6cGmUFReJggUrlj4h3UV5wNJ~akaGRSsAxjTvFqsSWU9SeLh4W1xMQfNsC~lxt7N-wS~DSa3PtfzlAyiEc9v7~hJv5Uit0pUqX7wlLde9FYOy5aTSy2YJVt1heeu4myZyyQA__&Key-Pair-Id=APKAJXJM6BB7FFZXUB4A","chapters":[{"id":"5fca017a6cee07000677d0f8","title":"A set of controversial, free-market economic views have come to dominate our way of thinking.","text":"

Let’s travel back to 1947.

It’s two years after the end of World War II, and economies across Europe are in ruin. In an international effort to stimulate growth, a policy of increased public spending is underway. Leading this movement is esteemed economist John Maynard Keynes. Keynes is convinced that public spending initiatives are the only way to get the economies of Europe back on track.

But a small, renegade group of economists, led by Friedrich Hayek, disagree. Hayek organizes a conference of this group on Mont Pèlerin, high in the Swiss Alps. While Hayek’s followers were in the minority back in 1947, it wouldn’t be too long before they rose to ascendancy.

The key message here is: A set of controversial, free-market economic views have come to dominate our way of thinking.

Some of those at Mont Pèlerin would go on to form the Chicago School of economics. At the heart of the Chicago School is the idea that governments and regulators should stay out of the economy as much as possible. The free market should decide where money is made and spent, not public officials.

The school provided the theoretical backbone to Reaganomics and Thatcherism, which introduced radical free-market ideology to the US and UK respectively in the 1980s. Along with some other ideologically similar ideas, it’s been dominant ever since, and many see it as the only correct way of thinking about economics. But are they right?

Well, let’s look at a couple of examples to see how such economic thinking works in the real world.

In 2007, the global economy came crashing down. Markets and banks nosedived, and countless people lost their jobs and livelihoods. But whose fault was it? A lot of people have blamed the financial regulators – pointing toward governments and lawmakers, rather than the banks themselves.

If you think about it, that’s like blaming the police for a burglary, which doesn’t really make sense. So why should it make sense when it comes to finance? Well, this is exactly the kind of thinking the Chicago school encourages.

Economic theory is also behind how we think about climate change. It’s common these days to adopt free-rider thinking – the belief that because our own contribution to change is so minimal, it’s not worth doing at all. This pessimistic worldview was granted economic legitimacy by American economist Mancur Olson in the 1960s. And it’s already helping to destroy our planet.

Free-rider thinking and Chicago School thinking are far from the objective truth. But many people think about the economy and society in this way. In the following blinks, you’ll find out why a lot of this thinking just doesn’t add up.

"},{"id":"5fca017a6cee07000677d0f9","title":"Game theory encourages an atypically selfish view of the world.","text":"

You’ve probably heard of game theory. This is the famous way of thinking that predicts people’s behavior based on rational decision-making. Game theory rose to prominence in the post-war years, when mathematician John von Neumann used it to advise the US government to bomb the Soviet Union as soon as they could. Thankfully, President Eisenhower disagreed.

Fellow American John Nash pushed game theory further by emphasizing the role of self-interest. Nash believed that people always acted selfishly. If people looked like they were cooperating, it was only because it suited their own interests at that moment.

But are people really always selfish? One thing’s for sure, if you assume that other people are selfish, you’re more likely to act selfishly yourself.

The key message here is: Game theory encourages an atypically selfish view of the world.

Game theory’s most famous example is the Prisoner’s Dilemma. Imagine you and your criminal associate have been imprisoned in separate cells. The police suspect you’ve collaborated on a major crime. So they offer you a deal: confess and turn your partner in, and you’ll walk free, while your partner gets ten years.

But they offer your partner exactly the same deal. And if both of you confess, you’ll both get eight years. If neither of you confesses, you’ll both get two.

So what do you do? The classic game-theory answer is to confess. Think about it, if your partner confesses, it’s better if you confess too – so you get eight years, not ten. And if your partner doesn’t confess, it’s still better if you confess. Sure, your partner goes down for ten years, but you get off scot-free.

The Prisoner’s Dilemma is widely applicable. It’s in action in a sports stadium – stand up in the crowd, and you’ll see more, but others will see less. Optimally, everyone would stay seated, but because some people stand, many people do. And then there are carbon emissions. The best-case outcome is every country reducing emissions, but each country individually gains nothing from going first.

But do we always think selfishly like this? There’s a lot of evidence to suggest that people actually collaborate with each other to optimize the outcome. There has been some international cooperation on carbon emissions, for example. And, of course, international peace treaties have prevented nuclear war.

Game theory doesn’t always predict human behavior – and that’s a good thing. Yet the mere existence of it encourages a particular, coldly selfish view of the world.

"},{"id":"5fca017b6cee07000677d0fa","title":"Ronald Coase inadvertently inspired economists to put dealmaking on a pedestal.","text":"

How should governments reduce unemployment? Here’s one idea – bribe employers.

This actually happened in Illinois in 1983. Almost 4,000 unemployed people were invited to take part in an experiment, where if they found and kept a job, their employer could claim a $500 reward.

The experiment went pretty badly. A third of invited participants didn’t want to do it, and more than a third of the employers who could have claimed the bonus chose not to. It just didn’t feel right to make that sort of deal.

The Illinois scheme was inspired by an economic idea known as the Coase Theorem. But even the man it’s named after, Ronald Coase, didn’t agree with it.

The key message here is: Ronald Coase inadvertently inspired economists to put dealmaking on a pedestal.

Imagine there are two farmers. The first farmer’s cows eat the second farmer’s crops. The farmers, Coase observed, would weigh up the amount of damage against the cost of putting up a fence, and would only put up a fence if that was cheaper.

But wait a minute – which of the farmers is legally in the right? Coase went against economic orthodoxy and suggested that the law was only a secondary consideration. He argued that the farmers’ concern isn’t legal justice, but economic efficiency.

That doesn’t mean the law won’t affect the farmers’ transaction. Because in reality, the legal process involves transaction costs. Factor in all the time and money that the process can take, from research to legal fees to negotiation, and the best solution for the farmers might look different.

Coase’s point was simple. Transaction costs affect decision-making. But the Chicago school of economists had their own interpretation. For them, the story illustrated why transaction costs should be minimized – meaning less interference from governments or courts.

This way of thinking has taken economics in some weird directions. The failed Illinois scheme to bribe employers was intended as a way to encourage simple dealmaking along Coasean lines. The controversial Coasean economist Richard Posner even recommended a free market in babies instead of the adoption system.

The Coase Theorem has also influenced carbon markets. Countries and companies bid for rights to emit a certain amount of carbon and can sell those rights on. The system encourages short-termism and downplays the actual damage caused by pollution.

Coase had intended to show the importance of transaction costs. Yet a misinterpretation of his views has led to modern economics seeking to minimize them. That wasn’t what he meant at all.

"},{"id":"5fca017b6cee07000677d0fb","title":"Many economic theories are unfairly harsh on government.","text":"

“Democracy is impossible.” Catchy one, right? This slogan gained huge popularity thanks to the work of economist Ken Arrow. But it’s debatable at best.

Arrow’s Impossibility Theorem is a mathematical proof that shows that, under a strict set of conditions, no system of collective decision-making can produce a result that’s consistent with what everybody collectively wants. That would mean, for example, that it’s impossible to elect anyone in a truly democratic way.

But Arrow’s theory makes a number of assumptions that don’t always apply to the real world. One of these is that decision-making systems should produce a complete ranking of all possible outcomes from best to worst. Many of our elections just require a single winner. So for them, Arrow’s conclusion doesn’t apply. And yet the slogan lives on.

The key message here is: Many economic theories are unfairly harsh on government.

In the 1970s, American economist James M. Buchanan developed public choice theory. Simply put, public choice theory states that everyone in politics – not just the politicians but also civil servants and even voters – is selfish. And on top of that, everything that happens in politics – such as a politician’s choice of policy – is the result of that selfishness.

Public choice theory suggests that there’s too much government regulation, and that politicians are motivated mainly by their desire to get elected, rather than to do good. It also portrays the general voter as poorly informed, self-interested, and unwisely focused on short-term gain. These are views that are now commonplace.

Is public choice theory accurate? Well, it certainly contains many contradictions. For instance, while it claims that voters are easy to fool, it also inspired Ronald Reagan to run for president on a manifesto of reducing public spending. His success is clear proof that voters are sometimes willing to put short-term interests to one side.

Yet public choice theory also has a self-fulfilling effect. If public sector workers are told that everyone acts selfishly, they’re much more likely to do so themselves. Voters and politicians, too, really do start to act in their own, selfish interests if they believe everyone else is. Yet again, this is the pernicious result of economic theorizing – not an inevitability, but a fulfillment.

"},{"id":"5fca017b6cee07000677d0fc","title":"Free-rider thinking seems tempting, but can have devastating consequences.","text":"

Here’s a scenario. Two criminals are pointing their guns at someone, intending to fire. But only one of them actually does. Who is the murderer? The one who fires, right?

Had that criminal not fired, the other criminal would have done so instead. But that doesn’t make the killer less guilty, and every legal system would agree that the criminal who fired the gun is the murderer. Speaking more generally, individual responsibility isn’t lessened, just because other people might do the same thing.

Yet in other situations, we really do seem to think that our own negative contributions don’t really matter because we’re part of a collective. This is free-rider thinking, and it’s having a terrible impact on the world we inhabit.

The key message here is: Free-rider thinking seems tempting, but can have devastating consequences.

The temptation to free ride goes back millennia. Socrates dismisses it in Plato’s Republic. But the idea was resurrected more recently by the twentieth-century economist Mancur Olson.

Imagine there’s a flood, and a single person is trying to hold it back with a bucket. Is this person helping? Not at all. In fact, their effort isn’t even praiseworthy – it’s just pointless. The rational thing to do, according to Olson, is to free ride. There’s no point trying if you’re not going to make any difference at all.

These days, we see free-rider thinking everywhere. Think about tax evasion. Since the 1980s, we’ve come to expect that corporations will attempt to reduce their tax bills as much as possible, exploiting every loophole they can. There doesn’t seem to be any point in paying a high amount of tax if all your competitors are trying to pay less.

The same thinking is behind our shamefully slow response to the threat of climate change. Individuals are quick to point out that the difference they can make is tiny compared with what big businesses and governments could achieve. But actually, individuals hold more power than free-rider thinking suggests.

When many individuals contribute collectively, that really can make a difference. The mass of people can reach a tipping point, inspiring broader action. And that’s what we need to be working toward.

Free-rider thinking introduces an element of strategizing into everyday life that is actually pretty unhelpful. The truth is much simpler. If we all cooperate, then collective efforts really can make a difference. And if we don’t cooperate, we should all be held responsible.

"},{"id":"5fca017b6cee07000677d0fd","title":"Applying economic thinking to everyday life can take us in some strange directions.","text":"

You wouldn’t call most of the examples we’ve seen so far traditional economics. Issues like voting and the climate catastrophe, after all, aren’t quite the same as graphs of supply and demand.

But since the 1980s, there’s been a movement toward understanding the world more broadly in economic terms. The ultimate aim is to be making decisions based on efficient, economically optimal thinking.

This movement was led by an American economist called Gary Becker. And though the movement is still influential, some of Becker’s views about how and where economics can be applied are pretty astonishing.

The key message here is: Applying economic thinking to everyday life can take us in some strange directions.

Gary Becker first suggested that immigration should be decided based on wealth in 1987. At the time people were outraged – and yet now, this is practiced widely. In many countries, you can even buy citizenship by investing a certain amount in assets. This includes the US and many European countries.

In the 1970s and 80s, Becker suggested that the US justice system could save money by making sentences longer. Longer sentences, he argued, would disincentivize potential criminals from committing crimes, so that enforcement spending could be cut. This didn’t work at all – in fact, with fewer officers on the streets, crime soared. It turned out that criminals didn’t make their decisions based on Becker’s strict economic reasoning.

The foundation for Becker’s ideas was that people are constantly making rational decisions. He explained away seemingly irrational decisions by arguing that people sometimes have surprising tastes. Smokers, for instance, were consciously making the decision to shorten their life expectancies. Their preference was simply to live a shorter life and keep smoking, rather than quit and live longer.

Becker also sought to give rational, economic explanations for traditional family life. He argued that a traditional unit of working husband and housewife was the most efficient way to live since both adults could specialize in the tasks that suited them best.

It’s not just old-fashioned, but frankly strange to view the entire world in Becker’s terms. And yet this way of thinking continues to be influential. The widely popular book Freakonomics, which applies economic reasoning to a colorful range of scenarios, borrows heavily from Becker. The problem is, seeing everything through the cold, overly rational eyes of homo economicus hardly makes for a healthy way to live.

"},{"id":"5fca017b6cee07000677d0fe","title":"People don’t always respond to incentives like economists expect them to.","text":"

In the 1990s, several day care centers in Haifa, Israel, had a problem with parents arriving late to collect their children. So they started issuing fines. And the number of late collections rose.

Here’s a different example. In 2011, the UK government wanted to discourage people from using single-use plastic bags, so they started making people pay for each bag – effectively, a small fine. Usage fell by 80 percent.

Why such different results? In a word, messaging. The fact is, incentives and disincentives only work when they actually engage the people they’re aimed at. In the end, it’s not just about the money.

The key message here is: People don’t always respond to incentives like economists expect them to.

When the UK introduced its plastic bag tax, it also launched a huge public awareness campaign that explained why it was being introduced. But in the Haifa day care centers, the parents didn’t have the message explained to them. Instead, they saw the fine as a fee they could choose to pay – so they felt less guilty about arriving late.

British social researcher Richard Titmuss gives another great example of failed incentives in his 1970 book The Gift Relationship. He examines US states that experimented with paying people to give blood, rather than having them simply donate it.

As it turns out, the experiment failed completely. The financial incentive led to some people lying about their medical histories, so a lot of the blood given wasn’t good enough quality. Plus, the payment turned some people away who would otherwise have donated. For them, the money wasn’t the point. Without the feeling that giving blood was an act of charity, they lost interest. The takeaway? People are complex individuals, and money isn’t their only motivation.

Many economists are convinced that everyone has their price. But even if that’s true, it raises a whole host of ethical questions. For starters, sometimes incentivizing someone can simply be immoral – like bribing a judge.

What’s more, under extreme pressure, people can be forced into acts they’d never normally contemplate. This could happen if they’re offered an obscene amount of money, or, at the other extreme, if they’re being threatened with torture. In these cases, people are being corrupted, rather than incentivized. As the British philosopher Isaiah Berlin put it, “the mere existence of alternatives is not . . . enough to make my action free.”

"},{"id":"5fca017b6cee07000677d0ff","title":"Our models for calculating probability are fatally flawed.","text":"

August 2007 was a hair-raising time for David Viniar, then CFO of Goldman Sachs. In a Financial Times interview, he describes events in the market as “25-standard deviation moves,” happening “several days in a row.”

A 25-standard deviation move is like winning the British lottery 21 times in a row – we’re talking less than once in the history of the universe. Yet during the crash, these events were happening not just once, but over and over. That leaves two possibilities. Either we all just got really, really unlucky, or the statistical modeling was badly wrong.

The thing is, this wasn’t the first time such unlikely events happened in finance – just take Black Monday in 1987 and the dot-com bubble of the 2000s. It’s pretty clear that there’s a problem with the modeling.

The key message here is: Our models for calculating probability are fatally flawed.

When calculating probabilities, the most commonly used model is the normal distribution – the bell-curve shape you’ve seen in so many math textbooks. Events like the financial crash are situated way, way out at the curve’s extremities, so far out that they’re negligible.

But not everything follows a normal distribution. If you look at the stock market, for instance, the pattern is very different. It has what’s known as a fractal distribution – the same sort of property that determines the scale of earthquakes or the pattern of a snowflake. Fractal distributions are scale-invariant – you can see the same patterns in them whether you zoom in or zoom out.

Likelihood falls a lot more gradually under a fractal distribution than a normal distribution. Something like the financial crash is still very unlikely, but not so rare that we should forget about it altogether. The problem is you need a lot of data to calculate probabilities using this method – and in the case of financial crashes, we don’t have enough of it.

All of this reveals a broader truth about probability – some things truly are uncertain. It’s far too common to assign probabilities to everything, even when we’re just guessing. Climate change, again, is a pressing example. The projections for the damage it’ll cause are vague, broad, and based on problematic assumptions. Many models assume that the lives of future generations are worth less than our lives today.

It would do us much more good to be honest about the limits of probability – and to admit that there really are things we just don’t know.

"},{"id":"5fca017b6cee07000677d100","title":"Modern economics is needlessly tolerant of extreme inequality.","text":"

It’s well known that there’s a high level of inequality in the world today. But intriguingly, there’s just as much inequality among the rich as there is overall.

Inequality follows a fractal distribution – just like the stock market and snowflakes in the previous blink. So it’s also scale-invariant. Say you look at a whole nation’s income and see that the richest 1 percent gain around 20 percent of all the income. Scale-invariance means that if you zoom in, you’ll see that within the richest 1 percent, the top 1 percent receive 20 percent of all that income.

So, are high levels of inequality inevitable? Actually, they’re not. Since the 1980s, inequality has only risen in countries like the US and UK that have introduced economic policies favoring free markets. Elsewhere, the same hasn’t happened. Inequality can be reduced.

The key message here is: Modern economics is needlessly tolerant of extreme inequality.

A lot of people believe that you deserve what you get. Think of the myths we create around the super-rich. Does someone like Bill Gates really deserve such extreme wealth? Gates came from a privileged background and his innovations built on the work of others. Yet his own financial success puts that of others in the shade.

Not only do we tolerate such inequality, we actually encourage it. Relatively low top tax rates in the US are a clear example of this. Under President Eisenhower, the top tax rate was 91 percent, but the consensus today is that high taxes discourage economic activity.

But that assumption is deeply flawed. Just think about it, would you really be motivated to work harder if your taxes were lower? If anything, a tax cut is likely to make you relax – since you’ll get more money for the same amount of work. Plus, don’t forget, tax is actually useful, and provides money that’s needed for vital public services. We shouldn’t all be striving to pay less.

The idea that lower taxes motivate people is yet another example of the flawed reasoning behind a lot of modern economic theories. Too often, as we’ve seen throughout these blinks, what are presented as objective facts are really value judgments, and dangerous ones at that.

As it turns out, economic theories rarely reflect the way that people truly are – so we should stop pretending that they do. It’s time to start paying less attention to economists, and celebrating the fact that none of us is homo economicus.

"},{"id":"5fca017c6cee07000677d101","title":"Final summary","text":"

The key message in these blinks:

In recent decades, a whole set of economic ideas, often supporting the free market, have come to be hugely influential on how we make policies, and even on how we think. Ideas like game theory, public choice theory, and free-rider thinking have all combined to make a crudely selfish view of the world seem like the norm. It’s time we paid much less attention to those economists who try to dress their damaging opinions up as facts.

Got feedback?

We’d love to hear what you think about our content! Just drop an email to remember@blinkist.com with Licence to be Bad as the subject line and share your thoughts!

What to read next: False Economy, by Alan Beattie

Licence to be Bad explains how a few economists have exerted an outsized influence over the way we think today. In the blinks to False Economy, you’ll go a little bigger, and discover how economic choices have affected countries as a whole. If you want to see up close just what a big difference economics can make to the welfare of a country, head on over to our blinks to False Economy.

"}]}

Log in to Blinkist

Sign up for Blinkist

Learn more, live more