The paradox of trust

I’m off early this morning to the OECD Forum – on Jobs, Equality, Trust – in Paris, taking part in two sessions. The organisers picked up on the themes of my book [amazon_link id=”0691156298″ target=”_blank” ]The Economics of Enough[/amazon_link], especially the section on trust. I wrote a new essay on trust for the OECD Yearbook, focusing on the paradox that the complex, globalized economy is more dependent on trust than ever, but measures of trust in institutions of various kinds indicate that it’s rather fragile.

[amazon_image id=”0691145180″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]The Economics of Enough: How to Run the Economy as If the Future Matters[/amazon_image]

It’s going to be interesting to see what the mood of the Forum is, as it gathers policymakers, business people, unions and NGOs, as well as academics – in other words, more workmanlike and less insulated from the world by affluence than Davos. I’ll be tweeting, under the hashtag  #OECDwk as no doubt will other participants @SpeakerLab @slaughteram @tsipirikos @acraiginparis @diane1859 @LaurenceEvans @JArleRH and @yanisvaroufakis

The humility of economists*

In the course of working on a forthcoming lecture, I’ve been dipping back into James Scott’s superb 1998 book [amazon_link id=”0300078153″ target=”_blank” ]Seeing Like A State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed[/amazon_link].

The book describes the catastrophic consequences of a number of idealistic grand schemes of the 20th century, including Soviet collectivization and Tanzanian ‘villagization’. In the conclusion, Scott focuses on the common theme of the failure to take account of the radical uncertainty of the future.

“Social and historical analyses have, almost invariably, the effect of diminishing the contingency of human affairs,” he writes. “A historical event or state of affairs simply is the way it is, often appearing determined and necessary when in fact it might easily have turned out otherwise.” He offers policymakers some rules of thumb:

1. Take small steps – and stand back and observe in between each.

2. Favour reversibility. “Irreversible interventions have irreversible consequences.”

3. Expect surprises.

4. Plan on human inventiveness. “What is perhaps most striking about all the high modernist schemes is how little confidence they repose in the skills, intelligence and experience of ordinary people.” The less is ‘left to chance’, the less room for local experience and knowledge.

He doesn’t spell out the conclusions for social scientists, but the main one I take from the book is: be extremely cautious about assigning causality. Or in other words, be far, far humbler about what we know than is typical. A lot of economic analysis suffers from the same high modernist blinkers as the disastrous social engineering described in the book.

* Spot the irony – just in case you hadn’t

[amazon_image id=”0300078153″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Seeing Like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have Failed (Yale Agrarian Studies)[/amazon_image]

Predatory capitalism

Isn’t all capitalism predatory, some contemporary critics might well ask, looking at the post-crisis economic landscape? Geoff Mulgan, chief exec of NESTA, is more optimistic in his recent book [amazon_link id=”0691146969″ target=”_blank” ]The Locust and the Bee: Predators and Creators in Capitalism’s Future[/amazon_link]. He foresees the possibility of sustainable economic growth built on relationships, with productive health and social care sectors, green innovation and social enterprise.

[amazon_image id=”0691146969″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]The Locust and the Bee: Predators and Creators in Capitalism’s Future[/amazon_image]

It won’t be business as usual; instead we’ll see “concentrations of capital guided by social and environmental goals as well as commercial ones; circular production systems; the civil and social economy; the ever-growing social industries providing health care, education and support; the collaborations of cyberspace and new tools for collective intelligence; the household reasserting itself as a place of production; the worlds of parallel exchange systems, collaborative consumption and time accounts.”

This lovely vision of ‘creative capitalism’ is some distance from the ‘predatory capitalism’ that brought us the crash, and continues to serve up poor service at high prices to support executive pay packets. The book makes a good case that the dysfunction we’re all too aware of now is itself the dynamic that will change the character of the capitalism mixed economies we live in. Mulgan draws on the literature on technology-driven long waves to explain how cycles of change come about: every crisis contains the seeds of its own destruction, as it were. Of course there are forces of reaction, but he has a fundamental belief in the power of innovation and human creativity to overcome them. The chapters on these dynamics form the core of the book, and set out the dynamics very clearly.

This is cheering, but I’m not so sure. The book is excellent on the economic dynamics of innovation, but oddly quiet – certainly for such a politically-aware author – on the politics of changing ‘the system’. It discusses, and dismisses, the utopianism of anti-capitalist protest, but does not cover the forces of cynicism and inertia. Mancur Olson’s classic work on rent seeking and the political economy of elite predation (for example in [amazon_link id=”0674537513″ target=”_blank” ]The Logic of Collective Action[/amazon_link]) is cited briefly; this theme is underplayed. The predators are in a strong position. They are defended by a barricade of legislation, ways of doing business and social norms.

Take one small example of the ability to resist change: today’s FT reports that the drive to increase the proportion of women in the boardroom of FTSE companies has ground to a halt, might in fact be going into reverse. The reason is almost certainly that the method of recruitment remains the old boys’ network: incumbents and headhunters will say, with sincerity, they’d love to appoint more women, they make huge efforts to shortlist women, but there aren’t enough suitable candidates. But ‘suitable’ means known to them and with the same career path as a male candidate. Of course, nothing will change without a legal quota. What are the odds on getting that legislation? Indeed.

Now pan out, and think about the legal and regulatory changes needed to open large swathes of the economy – banking, transport, pharmaceuticals, farming & agricultural trading – to the innovative start-ups that are indeed, as the book suggests, all around.

So although I like the vision set out in [amazon_link id=”0691146969″ target=”_blank” ]The Locust and the Bee[/amazon_link], and like Geoff Mulgan am encouraged by the opportunity offered by the crisis and inherent dynamics, it’s time to plunge into the legal and political nuts and bolts of turning predation into creation.

The robots are coming. Or are they?

This morning I warmed up for work by reading some intriguing articles that have been much linked-to in recent days: an interview with Jaron Lanier about his new book [amazon_link id=”1451654960″ target=”_blank” ]Who Owns The Future?[/amazon_link]; a Mother Jones article Welcome Robot Overlords, Please Don’t Fire Us; and an essay about how the intellectual left must re-engage with practical political economy.

[amazon_image id=”1451654960″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Who Owns the Future?[/amazon_image]

All three articles are inspired by the economic precariousness of the (former?) middle classes, the loss of jobs in the middle of the income distribution compared to the top and bottom, and the downward dip in real incomes in the middle too. We’re not scared about robots turning rogue and killing humans, but we are scared about them taking on the 9-to-5 grind, the commute, the office politics…. Robot angst has also shown up in economics with the excellent book by Brynjolfsson and McAfee, [amazon_link id=”0984725113″ target=”_blank” ]Race Against the Machine[/amazon_link], and in Paul Krugman’s blog posts.

[amazon_image id=”0984725113″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Race Against the Machine: How the Digital Revolution is Accelerating Innovation, Driving Productivity, and Irreversibly Transforming Employment and the Economy[/amazon_image]

The underlying hypothesis is that the way robots substitute for humans today is different from the way machines have substituted for us in the past; that they can now perform cognitive rather than physical tasks and the technical change is therefore capital-biased. It will be good for capital but not people. The ‘therefore’ in that sentence is an assumption, which might turn out to be true. I have an open mind on it.

However, there are some questions I’d pose before we let technological determinism run away with us.

1. The pattern of shifts in employment and income distribution – the hollowing out of the middle – is common to all OECD countries but rates of robotisation differ widely. What’s the linkage?

2. Why has automation so far coincided with increases in returns to education but will from now on be linked to decreasing returns to education?

3. The debate tends to focus on creative and routine admin or manufacturing jobs but the most heavily-automated sector of the economy is finance, which has seen the biggest increases in real incomes. How has this happened and why would it be different elsewhere?

My alternative hypothesis is that the returns to any new technology, whatever its bias, will be determined by social and political factors. So that leads me to think James Harkin’s LA Review of Books essay challenging people to stop being distracted by ‘nudge’ politics and think about the classic political economy questions of social structure and income distribution is the most optimistic of this morning’s three reads.

 

Reading about Thatcherism

Charles Moore’s forthcoming [amazon_link id=”0140279563″ target=”_blank” ]The Life of Margaret Thatcher[/amazon_link] will no doubt be fascinating. I’m not an avid reader political biographies and memoirs, although there are a few absolutely outstanding ones – such as Alan Clarke’s [amazon_link id=”1857991427″ target=”_blank” ]Diaries[/amazon_link], Chris Mullins’ first volume about life as a junior minister, [amazon_link id=”1846682304″ target=”_blank” ]A View From the Foothills[/amazon_link]. But so many dull ones too, such as the [amazon_link id=”0224016830″ target=”_blank” ]Crossman Diaries[/amazon_link] I had to read at university.

When it comes to reading about the Iron Lady, the earlier biography I did read and admire was Hugo Young’s [amazon_link id=”0330328417″ target=”_blank” ]One of Us[/amazon_link] – published in 1989 so before the end of her political career. It’s a brilliant book that makes credible the (often implausible) claim that journalism can be the first draft of history. Looking through it again this morning, my first thought was that the great achievement of Thatcherism was actually getting something – anything – to happen: sclerosis and ungovernability are two sides of the same coin.

[amazon_image id=”0330328417″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]One of Us: Life of Margaret Thatcher[/amazon_image]

But the outstanding book about the Thatcher government is Nigel Lawson’s [amazon_link id=”0552137278″ target=”_blank” ]The View From Number 11[/amazon_link], which sets out the economic thinking of Thatcherism (its essence), discusses how Westminster and Whitehall worked at the time & the tactics of bringing about change, and is completely gripping about the disastrous tensions that set in between Prime Minister and Chancellor.

[amazon_image id=”0593022181″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]The View from No.11: Memoirs of a Tory Radical[/amazon_image]