The loneliness of the long-distance whistleblower

For Tube reading, I turned to Michael Woodford’s [amazon_link id=”0241963613″ target=”_blank” ]Exposure: From President to Whistleblower at Olympus[/amazon_link], his account of his whistleblowing as President of Olympus on the huge fraud perpetrated by some of his colleagues. The blurb compares it to a thriller, and that’s no exaggeration.

To recap the story, he was made the first foreign President of the company he had worked his way up for 30 years. There had been only three foreigners before him to hold similar positions, so his appointment was high profile indeed. Soon after taking the job, he was alerted to reports of nefarious financial dealings published in a small investigative magazine. Woodford soon found the claims seemed to have some substance to them. Some of his senior Japanese colleagues tried to play them down, then freeze him out. Woodford instead went public.

[amazon_image id=”0241963613″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Exposure: From President to Whistleblower at Olympus: Inside the Olympus Scandal: How I Went from CEO to Whistleblower[/amazon_image]

His account of the experience of being a whistleblower is convincing, and gripping. The book is very good on the psychological ups and downs – mainly downs – and on the strains the pressure imposed on his family and friends. The cost of such an act of individual courage is obviously enormous, all the more so as there were through this period hints, never proven, of Yakuza involvement (“Goldman Sachs with guns,” as they’re described here). The book also paints a persuasive and not at all flattering picture of Japanese business culture, at least in a hierarchical company of this kind – Woodford clearly loves the country despite all that happened. In the end, he was wholly vindicated.

It’s a very pacy read, well worth picking up for a flight or the beach.

La trahison des clercs

I’m about a third through Jeremy Adelman’s superb biography of Albert Hirschman, [amazon_link id=”0691155674″ target=”_blank” ]The Worldly Philosopher[/amazon_link], and thoroughly enjoying it. We’ve got to the end of the second World War, by which time the young Hirschman had already had a lot of History to contend with, in the shape of the rise of the Nazi party in Germany, the Spanish Civil War, running with Varian Fry an escape route for Jews through Marseilles, Spain and Lisbon, and his own flight to the US and re-enlistment in the US army – alongside learning economics, reading widely and speaking several languages fluently, and getting married to a Russian-French-Californian intellectual and beauty.

[amazon_image id=”0691155674″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Worldly Philosopher: The Odyssey of Albert O. Hirschman[/amazon_image]

Needless to say, I’m particularly interested in reading about Hirschman’s reading. He was a fan of Camus, but not Sartre – definitely the right preference ordering. When fleeing Vichy France as the authorities closed in on his escape route, and able to take only one book with him, he chose Montaigne’s [amazon_link id=”B0081LMNKA” target=”_blank” ]Essais[/amazon_link].

[amazon_image id=”B0081LMNKA” link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Montaigne – Les Essais (French Edition)[/amazon_image]

There is an interesting passage about Julian Benda’s attack on the abandonment of Enlightenment reason for nationalism by European intellectuals, [amazon_link id=”224601915X” target=”_blank” ]La Trahison des Clercs[/amazon_link].

[amazon_image id=”3640206096″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Julien Benda – La Trahison Des Clercs[/amazon_image]

Reacting to the argument, Hirschman wrote of the “hybrid position of intellectuals in the modern world: neither masters, nor prosecuted, but technicians.” Most saw their role as working out the most effective means for politicians to achieve the ends they selected, but this meant intellectuals had abdicated the responsibility to study “the thirst for power and domination.” There is no possibility of pure technocracy, he argued – that in itself is a political choice. An interesting reflection given the return of technocracy in Europe post-crisis.

I’ll do a proper review when I’ve finished the book, which is going slowly because it’s too big to carry around. There have been other excellent reviews, such as this by Justin Fox and this by Cass Sunstein.

Meanwhile, I want to honour the name of Hiram Bingham IV. I’d never heard of this State Department official. This rich and well-connected diplomat, based in Marseilles from 1939, had become disillusioned with the Department’s policy of doing little to nothing to help refugees from Europe reach the US, and so embarked on his own freelance mission to issue thousands of US visas, both legal and illegal, to help the Varian Fry and Albert Hirschman rescue operation. The beneficiaries included Hannah Arendt and Marc Chagall as well as hundreds of people lacking the protection of fame. The State Department retaliated by posting Bingham to Argentina, where he turned his attention to tracking Nazis. He resigned from the foreign service in 1945 and didn’t speak of his wartime work again.

Politics, populism and people

There’s nothing like reading the newspapers at the weekend to put you off politics – not that weekday politics are much better. Even people like me who are positively interested in policies, albeit not party politics, sometimes despair about government by populist headline and short-term polling. Perhaps I should say ‘especially’ rather than ‘even’. The UK government is funding four evidence-based research centres, known as ‘what works’ centres. I find it hard to imagine how politicians will use the research if it happens not to fit in with the “narrative” of the day, shaped by prior beliefs or by prejudice and ideology. It isn’t just me. Polls, and turnout in elections, show that pretty much everybody is repulsed by the political system. For example, an Ipsos MORI poll from January 2013 found that fewer than one in five Britons trusts politicians, while net satisfaction with the way the UK (Westminster) parliament works has been trending broadly down since the 1990s, with more dissatisfied than satisfied.

Anthony Painter’s new book, [amazon_link id=”1780766610″ target=”_blank” ]Left without a future?[/amazon_link], diagnoses this structural problem very astutely. He writes of politics ‘without humility’, “A spectacle of false partisan divides, dishonest posture, lessons missed and opportunities wasted. Is it any wonder that our politicians are held in such low regard?” If politicians insist on acting out stereotyped Punch and Judy roles, people will stop taking them seriously.

[amazon_image id=”1780766610″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Left Without a Future?: Social Justice in Anxious Times[/amazon_image]

The book, written under the auspices of the progressive think tank Policy Network, analyses the socio-economic reasons for the decline of the Labour Party alongside the role played by free market or ‘neo-liberal’ ideas. Why, Painter asks, has the crash not so thoroughly discredited this dominant ideology of the 1990s and 2000s that the organised left benefited politically? As he points out, it is hardly as if people are entirely uninterested in current issues. Still, “The mainstream left is in crisis.”

Part of his explanation is that the left has concentrated on staking a claim to the moral high ground in the realm of ideas, in a rather didactic manner, without bothering with the humble, practical politics of paying attention to people and organising around their concerns and needs. Indeed, he obviously finds the moralising pretty unappealing. “It is through forming inclusive institutions that the left will be in a position to advance social justice….. The market is not a force of nature; it operates in accordance with a deliberate institutional design. It is to thinking about the institutional design of the future that the left’s energy should now be directed.”

I’m a technocrat, not a party political person, and so am not the target audience of a book aimed at the organised left of politics. However, I couldn’t agree more with the general point Painter is making here. Many politicians, as others have pointed out, have spent their entire career doing politics, moving from student politics to think tanks and advisory or lobbying roles, into constituencies and on up the ladder. They think of politics only as a battle of policy ideas, or rather as a battle to announce such ideas and get media attention for them. I’m generalising of course, but this quite common career path makes for a political world that broadly speaking has little traction with people, until one of the policy ideas is implemented from above and causes (usually) all kinds of problems.

The book starts with an account of the decline of the left, much of which carries over to the decline of the standing of party politics in general. It traces the failure of parties to respond to the vast social and cultural changes of recent decades. It describes the euphoria on the left that generally greeted Barack Obama’s election, and the subsequent disenchantment: “It was not just a change of government these people were interested in – it was a change in the whole of politics. The general consensus was that an intolerable chasm had opened up between the people and their representatives.” There are echoes here of the sympathy Matt Taibbi expresses toward the Tea Party supporters in the US, in his terrific book [amazon_link id=”0385529961″ target=”_blank” ]Griftopia[/amazon_link]; why would people not distrust their government, Taibbi asks. Painter still has some faith in Obama, seeing him as a politician who is after long-term change, not day-to-day headline victories.

Left Without A Future? goes on to explore the way society has changed, with ‘bubbles’, ‘networks’ and ‘tribes’ replacing class identification. The left’s old ‘solidarity’ approach does not speak to people now. What’s more, the character of the economy has changed, but business and politics do not take account of how value is created in a services and intangibles economy, nor of the erosion – to the extent it ever existed – of a clear division between the market and the state. Cultural identities have changed as much as economic realities. There is a widespread sense of anomie. Meanwhile, “each party is holding together an unstable coalition of quite incompatible views.” One chapter looks specifically at Scottish nationalism, and – in one of the more optimistic passages – sees this debate as a potentially constructive one that could lead to a more balanced and culturally confident UK.

What to do about the state of politics and the left? Painter writes: “Those who seek sustainable change through collective action need to understand the context in which they operate. They have to build enduring coalitions of support.” The coalition-building needs to recognise the changed economic, social and cultural identities of the day, rather than cleave to the class-interest identities of the 1960s and 70s. He rejects the various strands of political thinking he describes as ‘new moralism’, including thinkers on the right such as Jesse Norman and Philip Blond, as well as Maurice Glasman with his emphasis on community on the left.

Painter argues that although attractive, the practical impact of a discourse about re-moralising is likely to be limited. What’s more, he writes, “The moral conversation is a hubbub that is becoming deafening. Britain is socially divided; values are plural, needs diverse and attitudes varied. … The problem is not the absence of moral certainty; it is the presence of clashing moral certainties. … A top-down moral politics in a pluralistic nation is bound to result in anger and resentment.”

He is more attracted by the pragmatic justice of Amartya Sen. The book ends with an argument for the specificities of addressing and disrupting concentrations of overweening power, of seeking improvements in people’s lives from day to day, and above all of working to build new types of institution. Restructure education, look at the way business operates, concentrate on local institution-building. Painter cites  approvingly Tamara Lothian and Roberto Unger in their Crisis, Slump, Superstition and Recovery, where they make the case for small-scale institutional experimentation. He calls for a combination of top-down leadership to give people a hopeful vision and bottom-up civic activism.

This could sound a bit underwhelming – certainly in the context of a political culture geared towards big policy announcements that are supposed to fix complicated and intractable problems. However, I found the emphasis here on humility and pragmatism refreshing, although needless to say not agreeing with all the specific suggestions the book makes. Although the book is billed as a contribution to rescuing the mainstream left from irrelevance, the points it makes about the said irrelevance apply to all the main parties. Pretty much every day I come across examples of people saying that politics is – well, irrelevant at best, and sometimes much stronger adjectives are used. They are not making a party political point, but a systemic one. Left Without A Future? speaks to that wider sentiment. And if our ‘actually existing’ politics does not give itself a future, a different kind of politics will fill the vacuum.

Supply and demand for authors

Most writers know that their chosen path is not going to make them a fortune. The exceptions are few – only a few are as successful as J.K.Rowling (a.k.a. Robert Galbraith, apparently after J.K.Galbraith, in her recent PR stunt with [amazon_link id=”1408703998″ target=”_blank” ]The Cuckoo’s Calling[/amazon_link]) or [amazon_link id=”0593072499″ target=”_blank” ]Dan Brown[/amazon_link] or, in our world, [amazon_link id=”1844801330″ target=”_blank” ]Greg Mankiw[/amazon_link] or [amazon_link id=”0141019018″ target=”_blank” ]Steven Levitt[/amazon_link].

[amazon_image id=”0141019018″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything[/amazon_image]

So it was with great sympathy that I read a lament by Guy Walters in the Literary Review about the expectation that writers will travel the country giving talks for free, on the basis that it might just increase sales. He contrasts writers with comedians – apparently Al Murray asks for and gets 70% of takings at the door. Mr Walters calculates that the Hay Festival took £5600 from ticket sales at a talk he gave, for which they ‘paid’ him half a dozen bottles of wine.

I know nothing about the Hay Festival’s finances. But there are two problems with wanting to get paid for book talks.

One is that event costs are high. I’m currently organising the 2nd Festival of Economics with the Bristol Festival of Ideas. Participants are paid expenses and a small fee, because on principle we believe they should get paid something whenever tickets are charged for. But ticket sales alone do not cover the costs of the expenses and venue hire; we need to raise a few thousand pounds in sponsorship to break even. (Almost there, but please get in touch if you’re interested in sponsoring us!)

The second is that there are lots of authors. Lots and lots of them. The well-known ones can presumably charge a high fee, like the well-known comedians, but the lesser known ones have virtually no market power. It’s supply versus demand and then some: like so many other creative sectors, superstar economics apply here. This is a common phenomenon with experience goods, whose quality is unknown before they have been consumed. This means consumers flock to the writers/performers whose reputation is already strong enough to guarantee enjoyment, rather than taking a risk on the unknown. To them that hath, shall more be given.

I do think writers should have expenses paid by event organisers, and a fee even if token when the audience is paying. There’s never any harm in asking. But most writers have to take part in the events for enjoyment, and a scintilla of extra public recognition that might help sales, and not for cash.

Non-satiation or the paradox of choice?

This week I’ve been travelling – two days in Newcastle and lots of meetings. It included a visit to the set of The Paradise, the BBC drama based on Zola’s [amazon_link id=”2218745208″ target=”_blank” ]Au Bonheur des Dames[/amazon_link]. It’s one of the novels I haven’t read, despite being a huge Zola fan. (Does any other British reader of this blog remember the superb, terrifying BBC dramatisation of Therese Raquin with Alan Rickman in the 1980?) So of course I’ll have to get the book now.

[amazon_image id=”0199675961″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]The Ladies’ Paradise (BBC tie-in) (Oxford World’s Classics)[/amazon_image]

Meanwhile I bought Jeremy Bowen’s [amazon_link id=”0857208861″ target=”_blank” ]The Arab Uprisings[/amazon_link] at the station bookstore, just in case I ended up with some unexpected free time and no book (hah!).

Then got home to my recent orders and a couple of incoming review copies. Here are the recent acquisitions. Good thing summer is coming up.

Recent acquisitions

Of course, this kind of appetite for more books (and I’m with Umberto Eco that it isn’t necessary to read all the books in one’s library/anti-library) lends support to the assumption of non-satiation in consumer choice theory. More is always better. The theory refers to more of the same and one could argue that each book title should count as a separate good, in which case non-satiation would not be a valid assumption (although a couple of my colleagues like to have the same book in physical copy and on an e-reader).

But that doesn’t mean Barry Schwarz’s [amazon_link id=”0060005696″ target=”_blank” ]Paradox of Choice[/amazon_link] is valid either. His examples include types of jeans or brands of cereal and toothpaste. But not only do I not want Prof Schwarz determining what kinds of jeans I’m allowed to wear, I never hear proponents of the paradox of choice arguing that there are ‘too many’ book titles, or charities to which to donate, or types of wine. Are we to suppose that the professional classes are less likely than the lower orders to be daunted psychologically by too much variety?