Are some questions just too difficult? Part I: Should I blog about DIP?

The other day I was talking to Ruth about this blog. Ruth is a nurse who has worked in psych wards and prisons. So she has an interesting range of experiences to talk about and she's interested in economics.


I mentioned that there were some issues that I steered clear of in my blog because they were just too difficult. Ruth objected strongly to this approach on the grounds that ‘someone should be writing about the difficult issues’. I’m not sure why that someone should be me, but I can see the point she was making.

The first example that Ruth gave of what she was talking about was the high incidence of mental illness among young people that has been linked to drug use. She said that this had increased to a huge extent, since the 1990's. We talked around the problem for a while and later exchanged emails about it. The story that Ruth tells below is one of the saddest stories I have ever read.

Ruth says that the most prevalent mental health diagnosis in acute mental heath facilities these days is a relatively new one - Drug Induced Psychosis (DIP). People are only admitted to acute mental health facilities if they are in danger to themselves or someone else (not simply suffering extreme effects of illness as was the case prior to the onset of the drug problem). DIP is now recognized in the DSM4 manual - the diagnosis tool used by all western mental health medics. A major difference between DIP and schizophrenia is the level of associated violence and treatability. Schizophrenia is treated reasonably well with psychotropic medications as the primary treatment regime whereas DIP is treated mostly through drying out and containment (of extreme violence) with medications used as secondary measures.

Ruth tells me that she has chosen not to study a great deal of the theory about the relationship between drug use and mental illness because she wants to stay in touch with the reality on the wards. She writes:

Can I tell a story? It's the story of a young man, well, a boy about to be a man. He was out with his friends celebrating early, his 18th birthday which was to fall during the next week. So this weekend he and his friends went partying to celebrate. During the night one of his friends slipped him a tablet - slyly into his drink. The young man woke the next day still tripping. He was happy as can be, but by the Tuesday, his parents were very worried and took him to the doctor; he was still tripping - having a laugh. He celebrated his 18th birthday in an acute mental health ward, thinking he was still tripping, but was now fed up with being unable to tie his shoe laces, unable to get the fork into his mouth and having to eat with his hands. He was now hating this experience and getting angry with himself for not 'straightening out'. He began to cry in desperation. He cried over and over again, day in day out, while the medics tried in vain to help. After a couple of weeks, his parents wanted to take him home - they wanted to get him out of hospital thinking that maybe it was the hospital causing their son's problem. They took him home and he stopped crying. He still could not tie his shoe laces, or dress himself if there were buttons to be managed. But his parents were happy he'd stopped crying. After all, this fine young man was looking down the barrel of a great career as expected dux of his school, and a fine life. They were devastated at this turn of events. After a few days they brought him back to the hospital. They had not helped him and were even more devastated than they were before. This young man spent nearly a year in hospital, unable to 'get off his trip' as he so beautifully put it.

I was one of his nurses at the time. I was 22 years old, just 4 years his senior. Eventually both he and I left that hospital. But our paths met again in another hospital, another city even, about 6 years later. He told me he had never had a job for more than a few days, he still couldn't do up his buttons - he didn't wear buttoned garments - and that he was still having his 18th birthday trip. He still wanted to study economics (ironically enough) at university. He could still quote and discuss GDP / inflation / employment figures, monetary and fiscal policies, but old figures, those he'd learned for the HSC he still wanted to sit. And yet that young man has no mental health issues in his family, had all the academic potential in the world and a caring, present family. His parents had never divorced, his siblings all got along ok, his relationship with his girlfriend was going well. And there were no identifiable early warning signs of a mental illness about to strike. This man has DIP. He has never been diagnosed with schizophrenia, or any other mental illness.

Ruth concluded:

I wish I was telling the story of just one man, but I'm not. I've seen this same story and similar others so many times. Are some questions too difficult? Yes Winton, absolutely some questions are too difficult and too costly to avoid asking AND finding answers for.

The discussion continues in the next post.

Do global problems require domestic solutions?

‘Overall the best governments seek to extend the freedom of their citizens; we should not want them to wither away but to maximize individual choice while standing guard over a sturdy infrastructure of institutions and services. What they do within their (permeable) borders is reflected in what they should seek to do outside, increasing the range of free choices that people can make. Far from there being a clear choice between domestic and foreign policy, they are now frequently one and the same’ (Chris Patten, ‘What Next?’, Penguin 2009: 443).

It might seem to be a challenge for me to agree with the sentiments in that quote so soon after writing about the desirability of community self-regulation - governance without government. Those who want more self regulation must want government to ‘wither away’ to some extent to make room for this to happen. Yet I doubt whether it would be possible for people to prosper for long in a self regulating community without some kind of government to organize defence against external predators. I think Chris Pattern is right that we need governments to stand guard. I also think that if we had a government that was seeking to extend the freedom of its citizens, as Patten suggests, it would promote more community self regulation as a substitute for government regulation.

I’m not sure whether or not Patten would agree with me on that last point. Perhaps he would. He was not noted as a fan of statism when he was the last governor of Hong Kong and this book shows that he has retained many views favourable to individual freedom and free markets, despite having served as a European Commissioner.

One of the points that Patten makes in this book is that, despite globalization, nation states remain ‘the principal arbiters of politics’ (p.7). However, he questions how much states can do or achieve on their own:

‘Can they secure the welfare and safety of their citizens, policing borders, regulating economic activity, preventing financial ruin, protecting public health, avoiding environmental catastrophe? As the vocabulary of state aspirations becomes more ambitious, with political leaders promising almost every sort of fulfilled happiness, the capacity of states to deliver on these promises appears to become ever more suspect. A peaceful life, let alone a happy one, often seems more problematic than rhetoric suggests should be the case’ (p.9).

At the end of the book Patten tells us that his intention when he started to write it was ‘to demonstrate that nation states had to work together to cope effectively with the problems that crowd in on us all’. The point he ends up making is that ‘more effective domestic policies and better government at home are often needed to deal with global problems’ (p. 443). Three examples he gives are drugs (domestic policies in rich countries keep warlords in business in Afghanistan), epidemic diseases (breeding grounds in poor countries are sustained by inadequate public health facilities) and global financial crises (bad policies in individual nation states have effects that spread to other countries like an epidemic).

In my view there is another important example that Patten could have given of how domestic and foreign policy are frequently one and the same. This is particularly evident in international trade negotiations in which governments come together to talk about reducing trade barriers without any chance of achieving worthwhile outcomes because they are acting as the agents of the domestic interests which benefit from trade barriers. It is not possible for any government to take a sensible negotiating strategy to international negotiations unless it is supported by public understanding of the damage that its own trade barriers impose on its domestic economy.

However, I must be becoming a grumpy old man to complain that this book should have discussed any issue more thoroughly. This is one of the most perceptive books about global problems that I have ever read. The book shows that it is possible for a politician to acquire wisdom even though the incentives faced by people who choose that profession tend to work in the opposite direction.

Is reasonable regulation compatible with democracy?

Peter Boettke recently wrote a paper entitled: ‘Is the only form of “reasonable regulation” self regulation?’ (GMU Economics Paper 10-05).

This paper draws attention to the potential for self-regulating communities (governance without government) to achieve benefits of social cooperation even in unpromising situations. The subtitle describes the contents of the paper: ‘Lessons from Lin Ostrom on regulating the commons and cultivating citizens’.

Boettke attributes the concept of reasonable regulation to Anne Krueger. He tells us that Krueger got him thinking about the concept when she said at some conference that rather than central planning or unfettered markets we need reasonable regulation – regulation that is not capturable by special interests. Having read some of what Krueger has written about rent-seeking societies I imagine she put forward the concept of reasonable regulation as an ideal worth striving for rather than as something that could easily be achieved.

Boettke argues that self-regulation systems apply reasonable regulation. He suggests that since self-regulating systems are operating outside the formal realm of politics they do not face the problem of protecting against the unwarranted influence of politically empowered special interest groups.

I think that is a good point, but it may be over-stated a little. Community organizations do have to cope with the problem of protecting against the unwarranted influence of special interest groups among their members. They also have to deal with free-rider problems. The main difference is that when decisions are made within such organizations opportunistic behaviour is more easily seen to be opportunistic. It is more difficult for any individual or group to argue for unwarranted preferential treatment when the people who have to pay for this are members of the same community. It is also easier for the opportunistic tendencies of individual members to be restrained by subtle (or not so subtle) threats of retaliation by other members. It would be more defensible to argue that self-regulating systems are able to deal more effectively with the unwarranted influence of special interest groups.

Self-regulation systems seem to have some attractions for everyone opposed to statism, including self-styled commie libertarians and anarcho-capitalists (as well as sensible people like myself :-) . Such systems would presumably also be attractive to Burkean conservatives who emphasize the importance of the ‘little platoons’ i.e. the spontaneous social groups that arise in society.

Yet self-regulation may appear to be too utopian to play a major role in modern democracies. Everyone can understand that tribal groups were able to self-regulate to ensure that forests and fisheries were sustainable. They can understand that their ancestors were able to run schools and hospitals through local community organisations without help from governments. But I expect that many people would feel that there are powerful reasons why self regulation of many areas of life has been displaced by the regulatory apparatus of the democratic state. Is there something about democracy that leads inevitably to taking decisions out of the hands of local communities and placing them into the hands of governments, and then centralizing those decisions at the highest level of government?

This is a big question that I don’t think I can answer adequately at the moment. But I will make a few relevant points.

First, I think it is inevitable that a lot of people will look to politicians to offer solutions to local problems and that politicians will offer such solutions. Politicians do not win many votes by telling voters that they aren’t interested in local problems.

Second, I think that most people are aware that when a politician offers to solve problems by displacing self regulation, then someone has to pay for the costs involved. When people weigh up the benefits of regulation that will take the trouble out of things (to borrow a phrase from Charles Murray) against the additional taxes involved, there doesn’t seem to be any a priori reason why they should choose regulation. Perhaps the problem is that they think other people will pay – which could stem from confusion over tax incidence.

Third, to borrow another thought from Charles Murray (which he may have borrowed from Friedrich Hayek) I think the tendency for government regulation to displace self regulation is related to a tendency for people to see problems from an engineering perspective rather than a healing perspective. There is a tendency to try to solve problems by designing new systems to replace self regulating systems, rather than to think in terms of solutions that will enable self regulating systems to work better. I don’t think there is any fundamental reason why politicians should see themselves as engineers rather than healers.

These considerations provide grounds for optimism that reasonable regulation might be sustainable in a democracy.

Postscript:

The references to Charles Murray are from his book, ‘In Pursuit of Happiness and Good Government’, which I wrote about here and here.

Are Americans pessimistic about the prospects for the next generation?

Gary Becker has recently written an interesting article on the Becker-Posner blog about polls suggesting that the majority of parents in the United States are not confident that their children will be better off economically than they are. He suggests that the best way to counter such pessimism is to promote faster economic growth.


The article made me feel slightly uneasy because I wrote something a few months ago suggesting that the poll results actually conflict with the view that Americans are pessimistic about the future for their children. Have I mis-read the poll results? How much have the poll results changed over the last year or so?

Scott Winship has recently considered the evidence of a variety of polls on his blog: here and here. In brief, the polls indicate that the proportion of Americans who think that their children will have better standards of living than themselves consistently exceeds the proportion who think their children will have worse standards of living. The margin tends to narrow during recessions but, even this year, the polls suggest that optimism is no lower than in the mid-1990s (see Pew Research Center poll results here).

Rather than trying to explain why Americans have become more pessimistic perhaps researchers should be trying to explain why Americans are still so optimistic.

Is a hung parliament a good election outcome?

It seems that neither Labor nor the Coalition have won a clear majority of seats in the House of Representatives in last week’s federal election, so Australia is to have a hung parliament. This means that a group of independents will decide which of the major parties forms government.


The message that some people are taking from the result, or lack of result, is that the electorate has become disenchanted with the major political parties. There are good reasons for people to be disenchanted with the major parties, but the electorate does not have a single mind that can become disenchanted. Even if a higher proportion of voters have voted for minor parties, it is possible to have a substantial proportion of the vote going to minor parties without a hung parliament. The hung parliament reflects the closeness of the votes for the major parties.

I think a hung parliament is the worst possible outcome we could have obtained. As I explained in an earlier post, it is difficult for electors to hold governments accountable for outcomes when parties go to the polls to seek endorsement of their policies and then, after the election, enter into negotiations to decide what policies the government will actually implement. It is possible that independents will use their power to obtain improvements in parliamentary procedures. It will be surprising, however, if we do not also see policies being adopted to advantage narrow interests – favouring regional groups or groups with particular environmental concerns – at the expense of the wider community.

Fortunately, a hung parliament happens rarely under the system of single member electorates that we have in the House of Representatives. This situation is unlikely to change even if independents take more seats from the National Party in future elections. The National Party – as a regionally based party – chooses to remain in a long-term coalition with the Liberals because it can pursue the objectives of its supporters more effectively that way rather than by exercising the balance of power. Even if the National Party was completely replaced by independents the voters who support them would generally expect their representative to favour the conservative side of politics.

It is normal for minor parties to hold the balance of power in the Senate because of the proportional representation system of voting for that chamber. This does not matter so much because of the strong tradition that governments are formed in the House of Representatives. Although minor parties that hold the balance of power in the Senate may be able to bring down governments by blocking budgets, they usually have reason to be fearful of the electoral consequences of doing this.

There is a fair chance that the next parliament will appear to work reasonably well even though the governing party does not have a clear majority. The independents and party leaders have strong incentives to appear to be trying to work well together to avoid an early election. Even the costly compromises that emerge may seem reasonable under the circumstances.

Some people may even suggest that the political system should be changed to bring about this kind of outcome all the time, as under the MMP system in New Zealand. Don’t be fooled. A hung parliament is like bad weather – it is something we have to put up with from time to time. We don’t have to like it!

Did the Labor Party own 'the light on the hill'?

Over the last few years quite a few political commentators have been saying that no-one really knows any more what the Australian Labor Party stands for. Some of them contrast modern Labor’s apparent absence of philosophical underpinnings with ‘the light on the hill’ that former prime minister, Ben Chifley, spoke of in 1949.


I imagined that Chifley must have been talking about the socialist objective – nationalisation of the means of production, distribution and exchange – that Australian Labor dispensed with a long time ago.

However, when I looked, what Chifley actually said about the ‘light on the hill’ seems to have much more contemporary relevance:

‘I try to think of the Labour movement, not as putting an extra sixpence into somebody's pocket, or making somebody Prime Minister or Premier, but as a movement bringing something better to the people, better standards of living, greater happiness to the mass of the people. We have a great objective - the light on the hill - which we aim to reach by working the betterment of mankind not only here but anywhere we may give a helping hand. If it were not for that, the Labour movement would not be worth fighting for’ (Speech by Ben Chifley at the ALP conference in 1949).

Now, if you leave out the mention of the ‘Labour movement’, that statement doesn’t seem to me to define anything peculiar to the Labor Party. If anything, it seems to have a Benthamite liberal flavour to it. I can’t see how the meaning of ‘greater happiness to the mass of the people’ could differ much from ‘the greatest happiness of the greatest number’. The ‘betterment of mankind’ sounds like a phrase that John Stuart Mill might have used. The internationalist flavour of ‘anywhere we may give a helping hand’ does not seem to me to express a sentiment that is peculiar to the Labor Party.

I don't think that Labor ever had sole ownership of Chifley’s light on the hill. Chifley made a great speech but it didn’t define what Labor stood for in the way that Menzies ‘forgotten people’ speech a few years earlier still defines a lot of what the Liberal Party stands for. The idea of ‘bringing something better to the people’ was just as much a Menzies objective as a Chifley objective. Today, it is just as relevant to Tony Abbott as to Julia Gillard.

When a political party doesn’t have a guiding philosophy voters are largely left in the dark about how it is likely to respond to the problems it will face in government, other than that it is unlikely to bite the hand that feeds it (trade unions in the case of the Labor Party). The policies that the parties take to an election tell only a very small part of the story of what they are likely to do in government. Tony Abbott has written books about his guiding philosophy (his latest was reviewed on this blog last year). Like him or loathe him, voters do at least know where Abbott is coming from.

I think Julia Gillard could probably give Labor something distinctive to stand for – something to move forward to – if she sets her mind to it either as prime minister or leader of the opposition. There could be the germ of a distinctive objective for a social democratic party in moving toward more equal opportunity for children in some of the things that Gillard has been saying about education. But those ideals, if they exist, remain hidden beneath endless outpourings of meaningless verbiage.

Does the law of diminishing returns apply to a sense of achievement?

The law of diminishing returns is, of course, the famous economic law that as you add additional units of one factor of production, holding other factors constant, then the additional increments of output produced tend to decline. The original story was about how much additional food could be produced by adding additional units of labour to a constant amount of land, other things being equal. It has been possible, of course, to avoid the Malthusian consequences of diminishing returns by making more use of capital equipment and using more efficient technology etc.


The law of diminishing returns was probably hardwired into my brain when I was studying economics as an undergraduate over 40 years ago. In any case, when I first saw a data set providing ratings of life satisfaction and of seven domains (standard of living, health, achieving, personal relationships, safety, community connectedness and future security) it seemed natural to expect that the law of diminishing returns would apply to each of those domains. So, for example, I expected the additional life satisfaction that accompanied an increase in rating on ‘achieving in life’ from 7 to 8 would be greater than that accompanying an increase in rating from 8 to 9. It turns out, however, that my expectations were wide of the mark - at least for the data set I was using (the Australian Unity quality of life data set, Survey 13, 2005, with useable data for 1,956 respondents). The relationships between the various domains of life satisfaction aren't actually much like the relationships between fertilizer applications and crop yields.

Some time last year I decided to try to use regression to find a simple production function (there I go again) that provided a good explanation of life satisfaction in terms of the seven domains. The estimated coefficients for factors other than ‘achieving in life’ were then used to hold the influence of these factors constant at their average values in order to examine how life satisfaction varies with changes in the ‘achieving in life’ rating.

I thought a Cobb-Douglas production function, which is probably the simplest form of production function incorporating diminishing returns, would probably be appropriate. But a simple linear production function better fitted the data. The functional form that I eventually settled on is a simple linear relationship that is anchored at the top end of the scale, so that if there is a rating of 10 on all 7 domains the predicted rating for life satisfaction must also be 10. The estimated coefficients for this restricted least squares regression were similar to those for ordinary least squares, but the restriction enables better use of available information (Adjusted R squared = 0.81 versus 0.51). The estimated coefficients were as follows (followed by standard errors in brackets):

Standard of Living: 0.309 (0.020)
Health: 0.055 (0.016)
Achieving: 0.272 (0.018)
Relationships: 0.160 (0.014)
Safety: -0.006 (0.018)
Community links: 0.076 (0.016)
Future security: 0.047 (0.018)
Intercept: 10 – 10*(.309+.055+.272+.160-.006+.076+.047) = 0.876 .

Now, we know that a linear production function is inconsistent with the law of diminishing returns. The model predicts, for example, that an increase in achieving rating from 7 to 8, will result in the same increase in life satisfaction rating (+0.272) as for an increase from 8 to 9. But this doesn’t necessarily mean that the estimated model fits the data well over the full range of variation in achieving ratings. One way to test this is to use the estimated coefficients to hold other factors are constant at their average values and to examine how remaining variation in life satisfaction is related to achieving ratings. The results are shown in the chart below.

It is evident from the chart that the linear model prediction of how life satisfaction varies with achieving tracks fairly closely the estimate of life satisfaction with variables other than achieving held constant. In other words we can be fairly confident that diminishing returns does not apply to achieving.

The chart also shows large gaps between the estimates of life satisfaction with variables other than achieving held constant and average life satisfaction levels. This reflects correlation between ratings on achieving and ratings on other variables. This could be because of causal relationships between various domains or because ratings on different domains are influenced by common factors such as personal disposition or temperament.

I’m reluctant to post the results of this little piece of research because I can’t claim any expertise in this area (and my ignorance might be fairly obvious to people who do have such expertise). But the results of this exercise seem to me to have some implications for the question that I raised in my last post about the appropriate balance between different domains such as achieving and relationships. The absence of diminishing returns to achieving does not mean that high achieving by itself is likely to give many people very high life satisfaction. That usually requires high ratings on relationships and on the other domains as well. But we shouldn’t assume that achieving and relationships are completely independent. There is higher positive correlation between relationship ratings and achieving ratings (0.4) than between relationship ratings and the ratings for any of the other domains.
Does this mean that high achievers find it easier to maintain good relationships with others? Or, does it mean that people tend to view maintaining good relations with others as an achievement?

Does meaningful work contribute to life satisfaction?

In my last post I expressed disappointment that the authors of an article about material prosperity and life satisfaction did not acknowledge the sense of achievement that many people obtain from their work.

How do I know that meaningful work contributes to life satisfaction? It would be easy enough to make a fairly long list of people I know who probably get a great deal of satisfaction from their work. I expect many readers could make similar lists. There is also some research evidence on this question.

It is well known that unemployed people tend to have much lower levels of life satisfaction than people in other workforce categories (including those who have retired). The Australian Unity Wellbeing Index indicates, however, that unemployed people also tend to have much lower levels of satisfaction with what they are achieving in life. There is also a marked difference in satisfaction with ‘achieving in life’ between employed people who are looking for alternative work and those not looking for work. Robert Cummins et al, authors of the report, suggest that low satisfaction with what they are achieving in life may be one of the main reasons why people seek to change their employment. The authors add: ‘Many employed people gain a great sense of ‘purpose in life’ from their employment, and having a sense of purpose is central to wellbeing’ (See: Report 17, April 2007, p. 164-5 and Figures 8.9 and 8.18).

Research on the relative contributions to life satisfaction of orientations to pleasure, engagement (the psychological state that accompanies highly engaging activities) and meaning (pursuit of a meaningful life) is also relevant. Christopher Peterson, Nansook Park and Martin Seligman have found (using data from an internet survey) that orientations to engagement and meaning have a greater impact on life satisfaction than does pleasure. The authors also found somewhat higher life satisfaction scores for respondents simultaneously near the top of all three orientations and notably lower scores for respondents simultaneously near the bottom of all three orientations (‘Orientations to happiness and life satisfaction: The full life versus the empty life’, Journal of Happiness Studies, 2005).

A short article by Amanda Horne on the ‘Positive Psychology News Daily’ site refers to research by Michael Steger and Bryan Dik which suggests that meaningful work is associated with people developing a sense of identity which comes from knowing ‘who they are, how their world works and how they fit in with and related to the life around them’ and ‘people’s identification of, and intention to pursue, particularly highly valued, over-arching life goals’ (Chapter on finding meaning at work in Oxford Handbook of Positive Psychology and Work).

One of the points emphasised by Peter Warr, the author of extensive research on happiness in the workplace, is whether individuals want to be in the role they have been assigned, the value to them of different role characteristics and the attractiveness of core tasks. He suggests that such matters can have major implications for individual happiness. Warr also notes:

‘Some happiness is not actually accompanied by feelings of pleasure, or satisfaction of desires. This second form of happiness invokes reference standards of some kind, perhaps some realization of personal potential’ (‘Searching for happiness at work’, The Psychologist, Dec. 2007).

Some people might wonder why people who claim to get a great sense of achievement from their work often require high levels of remuneration for their services. I think this might have a lot to do with rationing of their time. Successful actors, sporting professionals, business leaders, artists etc. can be fairly sure that by requiring high levels of remuneration their services will be purchased by people who will appreciate them. They also know that can always give their wealth away if they feel embarrassed by the amount they are accumulating for doing things they might be happy doing for nothing.

Consideration of the way high-achievers allocate their time raises some obvious questions about the importance to life satisfaction of an appropriate balance between work and home life and between different domains such as ‘achieving in life’ and ‘personal relationships’. That might be a good subject for a later post.

Is life satisfaction mainly about comfort?

‘Contrary to both those who say money is not associated with happiness and those who say that it is extremely important, we found that money is much more related to some forms of well-being than it is to others. Income is most strongly associated with the life evaluation form of well-being, which is a reflective judgment on people’s lives compared with what they want them to be. Although statistically significant, the association of income with positive and negative feelings was modest’ (Ed Diener, Weiting Ng, James Harta and Raksha Arora, ‘Wealth and happiness across the world ...’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, (99:1), 2010, p. 60. Media reports: here and here.)

In my view this recent article makes an important contribution to understanding of the relationship between wealth and emotional well-being by attempting to disentangle the determinants of life satisfaction and positive feelings. The article, based on data from the Gallup World Poll, suggests that while satisfaction with standard of living has a substantial impact on satisfaction with life as a whole it has little impact on positive or negative feelings (emotions experienced ‘yesterday’).

The study uses satisfaction with standard of living and a measure of whether people own luxury conveniences (TV, computers etc) as proxy measures of fulfillment of material desires. The basic idea is that people learn to desire material goods because of their social situation (including the influence of advertising) and the fulfillment of these desires leads to feelings of well-being. Some groups (e.g. the Amish) seem to be reasonably happy without much income because they have relatively low aspirations for material goods.

The authors link their findings to the distinction that Tibor Scitovsky made between comfort and pleasure (‘The Joyless Economy’, 1978). They suggest that ‘it may be that’ comforts increase life evaluations whereas pleasures increase reports of positive feelings:

‘Comfort comes from having one’s needs and desires continuously fulfilled, whereas pleasures come from fulfilling unmet needs and from stimulating and challenging activities. One source of pleasure according to Scitovsky is social stimulation, which he suggested lies largely outside the realm of economics. Novelty and learning can be sources of pleasure too. Thus, Scitovsky’s reasoning is in accord with our findings that wealth predicts life satisfaction, and social relationships and learning new things predict positive feelings’ p.59 .

I found that passage fairly challenging, but reading it didn’t give me positive feelings. I don’t have too many problems with the idea that being satisfied with your standard of living is closely related to comfort, but there are other factors related to economic activity - such as a sense of achievement - that may also make an important contribution to life satisfaction.

A couple of years ago I attempted to identify how necessary various domains of quality of life are to high satisfaction with life as a whole using data compiled by the Australian Centre on Quality of Life (reported here). The criterion used was the percentage of respondents with high satisfaction with life as a whole among those with low ratings on particular domains of quality of life. The percentages were follows (ranked in order of importance of each domain): personal relationships 10.8%, achieving in life 11.8%, standard of living 12.8%, future security 15.6%, health 15.9%, community connectedness 19.0% and safety 20.3%. The results suggest that ‘achieving in life’ at least as necessary to high life satisfaction for Australians as is ‘standard of living’.

I do not claim that working for money is the only way that people can obtain a strong sense of achievement, but it would be very surprising if this feeling is unrelated to economic activity.

Postscript:
I could also have mentioned the neurological evidence that humans (and rats and presumably other animals as well) get more satisfaction from actively working for a reward than from getting it without doing anything to earn it. (See: Gregory Burns, 'Satisfaction', 2005, pp. 43-45.)

How large a role does luck play in our lives?

‘Let’s return to our touchstone: identical twins growing up together. They share their genes, they share their family environments, and they share their peer groups, at least on average. But the correlations between them are only around 50 percent. Ergo, neither genes nor families nor peer groups can explain what makes them different’ Steven Pinker, ‘The Blank Slate’, 2002, p.396.

The correlations that Pinker is referring to relate to intelligence, personality and life outcomes.

I read that passage for the second time a week ago and I have thought about it a few times since. The first time I thought about it was not long after I put my last post, Does parenting make a difference?, on my blog. In that post I neglected to mention that Pinker ended his discussion of parenting by talking about the important role that luck plays in our lives.

The next time was when I stumbled across a post I wrote last year, What determines whether we have successful lives? , in which I discussed Malcolm Gladwell’s book, ‘Outliers’. Gladwell seems to be arguing that exceptional performance can always be attributed to something other than good luck. I think he is probably wrong about that, but his book is a good read in any case.

The most recent time I thought about Pinker’s paragraph about identical twins was when I read Bill Easterly’s post, ‘How skill beats luck in the world cup of development’. Easterly’s point is that the World Cup uses a tournament of five matches to make skill beat luck. He calculates that the probability that a weak team that only wins 15 percent of the time will win the tournament is only 0.0076 percent. By contrast, a strong team that wins 85 percent of the time has a 46 percent probability of winning the tournament. I find it reassuring that despite the large random element in outcomes of low-scoring games (at least that’s how it appears to me as a fan of Aussie rules football) there is a high probability that one of the stronger teams will win the tournament.

Easterly translates his observation to economic policy as follows:

‘As this blog likes to frequently point out, economic growth has a lot of random variation. Over a short period of time (metaphorically equivalent to one game), a country with bad policies and bad institutions still might have a good growth rate. But over a long period of time (equivalent to playing many successive games), the consistent winners are very likely to be countries with good policies and good institutions. So in deciding whether a particular set of policies and institutions are good or bad, you need to look at long periods (tournaments) and not at short ones (single games). How long the long periods have to be will depend on how important luck is in the short term; the evidence we have on economic growth is that short term luck is very important, and the periods have to be pretty darn long for proper analysis.’

I thought that was well worth quoting, but patient readers who have got this far might wonder how it relates to the finding that luck plays a large part in determining outcomes at an individual level. The link that occurred to me is that whereas the ancients saw everything as being in the lap of the gods, these days there is a tendency to say that just about everything that happens at both individual and society levels is a result of human action.

When I hear people say, "You make your own luck", I tend to nod in agreement. But what does this mean? A glance at some of the things personal development professionals write about this on the internet suggests that it involves adopting strategies that tend, on average, to produce better outcomes. When countries make their own luck they adopt economic strategies that tend, on average, to produce better outcomes. In neither case does this eliminate the strong influence of luck on short-term outcomes. Making our own luck just moves the odds in our favour.

Does parenting make a difference?

Bryan Caplan wrote a provocative article in The Wall Street Journal a few days ago (‘The Breeders’ Cup’, June 19, 1010) in which he presented some selfish reasons for people to have more children. In brief:

• While happiness research suggests that modern parents are less happy than their childless counterparts, ‘happiness researchers rarely emphasize how small the happiness gap is’. Beyond the first child, ‘additional children are almost a happiness free lunch’.
• The costs of having kids are front-loaded and the benefits are back-loaded. The more kids you have the more grandchildren you can expect.
• There is some evidence that few people who have children regret that decision. Gallup poll data suggests that most childless adults over the age of 40 say they would have children if they had to make the same decision over again.
• Parenting can be less work and more fun than many people think. The long-run effects of parenting on children’s outcomes are small. Once you realize that your kids’ future largely rests in their own hands you can give yourself a guilt-free break.

Most of Bryan’s article is about the last point. Before discussing this, however, I want to comment briefly on the relevance of happiness research to the decision to have children. Bryan seems to be implying that happiness researchers argue that if having kids doesn’t make people happier, then they shouldn’t have kids. I have read a fair amount of the happiness research literature but I haven’t ever actually seen any researcher put that view. Researchers seem to be almost silent on this issue. I hope this is an embarrassed silence in the case of those happiness researchers who have been quick to suggest that people are making poor decisions when they do other things that do not make them much happier such as working longer hours to earn more income. The point that needs to be remembered, as I have discussed in previous posts (e.g. Do well-being surveys measure utility? and Do good decisions always make us happy?), is that happiness surveys measure current emotional well-being (or something similar) and people often sacrifice some happiness in the short term in order to have greater happiness in future, or to pursue other objectives.

I think that Bryan is probably right that in the modern world there may be a tendency for people to limit the size of their families because they believe that the quality of parenting has a huge impact on children’s futures and they assume that there is no way that parenting could be less work and more fun. He points to fairly strong evidence from research on twins and adoption that supports the view that parenting makes little difference to the way kids turn out.

However, I think Bryan may be at risk of under-stating the importance of good parenting. It seems to me that there are a lot of people whose parenting is so poor that it does damage the future prospects of their children. I don’t claim to know much about this topic, but it is hard to accept that there are no important links between child neglect and antisocial and criminal behaviour.

Steven Pinker discusses some relevant research by Judith Rich Harris in ‘The Blank Slate’ (2002). Harris argues that the main environmental shaper of personality is the child’s peer group. In Pinker’s words:

‘Children do not spend their waking hours trying to become better and better approximations of adults. They strive to become better and better children, ones that function well in their own society. It is in this crucible that our personalities are formed’ (p. 390).

I imagine that would appear as a blinding insight to very few parents. Most people would know already that it is important for their children to choose their friends wisely, but they would also know that they can’t choose their friends for them. Perhaps the most important way that parents can make a difference is through decisions about where they live and what schools their children attend.

Is there a crisis of capitalist democracy?

Richard Posner’s recent book, ‘The Crisis of Capitalist Democracy’, is mainly about the global financial crisis, how it came about in the US, the lessons that the author thinks we should have learned from it and what governments should do to prevent similar crises in future. According to this distinguished author the crisis came about because of lax regulation; we have learned from it that the financial system is inherently fragile and that Keynes is still relevant; and the way to avoid similar crises in future is to introduce regulatory reform in the financial sector.


To be fair, Posner condemns some of the knee jerk responses of governments introducing tighter financial regulation and acknowledges that he is not entirely happy with his own suggestions for regulatory reform. He views the only ambitious proposal that he discussed sympathetically – the separation of commercial banking from other forms of financial intermediation – as ‘fraught with problems’ (p.362).

It is arguable that the global financial crisis was a crisis of capitalism. A milder financial crisis might still have occurred if central banks had not previously acted in ways that led major financial institutions to expect that they would be bailed out if their excessive risk-taking resulted in major losses. It is even possible to entertain the idea (as I did here) that the financial crisis has highlighted a fundamental problem in that laws governing the financial system currently permit financial intermediaries to make promises that they can’t always keep. But why view this economic crisis as a crisis of democracy?

The title of the book arises from Posner’s view that while the American political system can react promptly and effectively to an emergency, it ‘tends to be ineffectual’ in dealing with longer term challenges:

‘The financial collapse and the ensuing depression (as I insist we must call it) have both underscored and amplified grave problems of American public finance that will not yield to the populist solutions that command political and public support. The problems include the enormous public debt created by the decline of tax revenues in the depression, the enormous expenses incurred by government in fighting the depression, and the boost the depression has given to expanding the government’s role in the economy. These developments, interacting with a seeming inability of government to cut existing spending programs (however foolish), to insist that costly new programs be funded, to limit the growth of entitlement programs, or to raise taxes, constitute the crisis of American-style capitalist democracy’ (p.387-8).

Unfortunately, the quoted passage appears in the final paragraph in the book rather than the introduction. There is not much discussion in this book about this supposed weakness of the US democratic system. The author implies that it is largely a problem of political culture. Republicans favour low taxes but they have been reluctant to reduce government spending. Democrats favour high levels of government spending but they have been reluctant to raise taxes. As a result:

‘From the standpoint of economic policy we have only one party, and it is the party of profligacy’ (p.384).

As a person living in a democratic country in which a large part of the electorate has come to equate responsible economic management with budget surpluses and minimal public debt (to the dismay of some left wing economists who would like to see more public sector investment) I find it difficult to take seriously the idea that the current political culture in the United States involves a crisis of capitalist democracy. I am confident that before too long Americans will insist that their governments balance their books in order to avoid the problems currently being experienced in Greece and other European countries.

However, the picture might look a lot different from within the US. Before a change in political culture can occur in the US it will be necessary for a lot more Americans to become concerned about the future implications of current fiscal policies. Richard Posner claims that he has no idea how to solve the problem of America’s political culture (p.385) but I think he is contributing to the solution by merely raising awareness of the problem.

Does history give undue prominence to scribblers?

I imagine that history does tend to give excessive prominence to writers because historians have to rely heavily on written material. Historians probably spend a lot of time discussing this subject but, not being an historian, I don’t claim to know much about it. What this post is actually about is a minor historical incident in which I think undue prominence has been given to my role because I was editor of a student newspaper. I’m not objecting to the way I have been portrayed. I just think that other people deserve more credit for the contributions they made.


‘A Spirit of True Learning, the Jubilee History of the University of New England’ by Matthew Jordan, was published by UNSW Press in 2004. I confess that I have only just now read the book at the urging of Jim Belshaw, a fellow student at UNE in the 1960s, and now a fellow blogger. Jim referred me, in particular, to a few pages about the history of the room visiting issue (pp 187-191).

At the beginning of the 1960s nearly all students at UNE lived in single-sex residential colleges on the university campus. As Matthew Jordan records, in 1963 the University Council decided to cut back room-visiting between the sexes and then to abolish it altogether from the beginning of 1964. The decision to ban room visiting was taken against the advice of the heads of colleges (which were supposed to be largely self-governing) and was, of course, strongly opposed by students.

My recollection is that before I became editor of ‘Neucleus’, the student paper, the stage had been set for the first issue of 1964 to protest against Council’s decision on the room visiting issue. I was more than happy to go along with that idea and to accept editing responsibility, but at the time (November 1963) I was just completing my first year at UNE and would not have been viewed by other students as a leader of the protest movement. (I can’t recall why the editorship of Neucleus became vacant at the end of 1963. I agreed to edit just one issue to be published at the beginning of 1964 with help from the previous editor and other students who had more experience working on the paper. As it happened, early in 1964, I became joint editor with Jim Belshaw, but that is another story.)

Matthew Jordan writes:
‘Winston Bates led the way. On the one hand, he said, Council talked of moulding students into responsible adults, while on the other, by “imposing blanket restrictions on everyone”, it issued “an insult to the maturity of students and an utter denial of personal freedom”.

The quoted words are (almost) correctly attributed to me but in suggesting that I ‘led the way’ I think Matthew is under the impression that I was also the ‘special correspondent’ responsible for the page one article. Since I was defending the anonymity of the ‘special correspondent’ it isn’t surprising that people might think I was responsible, but the special correspondent knew a lot more than me about Council deliberations. Among other things, the special correspondent wrote:

‘It would seem that the real reason for Council’s action was the fear that certain rumours circulating in North-Eastern N.S.W. about the immorality supposedly rife in the university would lead to a decline in student enrolments’.

My recollection is that the special correspondent was only using the words ‘it would seem’ to further hide his identity.

While I think Matthew’s history gives me undue prominence, 47 years later I am still rather proud of one of the passages in my editorial:

‘Perhaps the concept of freedom in a university needs further explanation. It is not a freedom to do what you want to, full stop; nor is it a relentless search after personal happiness. The college regulations in the “free” university would be framed by members of college with a view to restricting violation of the rights of others.

Surely this is an ideal worth working for. ...’

That could have done with some further editing, but it wasn’t too bad. I hope regulations applying in residential colleges at UNE today have been framed with a view to restricting individual freedom only to the extent necessary to protect the rights of other residents.

How bounded is rationality?

Herbert Simon’s concept of ‘bounded rationality’ captures the idea that although individuals intend to behave rationally, they are constrained by limited cognitive abilities. The concept was put forward as an alternative to the assumption of neoclassical economics that individuals make decisions by maximizing utility functions.


It seems to me that maximizing utility is best viewed as a metaphor, akin to the charioteer, elephant and plane metaphors discussed in a previous post, rather than a description of actual human behaviour. It can be a useful metaphor. (I have used it on this blog to suggest that some seemingly irrational behaviours may in fact be rational.) Nevertheless, as James Buchanan has argued:

‘The modern economist who models the individual as choosing among feasible alternative bundles of goods to maximize a utility function that does exist independently of choice itself presents no evidence that such functions actually exist, and if pushed, the economist would agree that “utility” is little more than a rhetorical artifice that is introduced as an aid in explaining choice behavior within an imposed rational choice reconstruction’ (‘The Economics and the Ethics of Constitutional Order’, 1991).

It is possible to argue that all human action is rational in the sense of being purposeful, but once we acknowledge that humans have limited cognitive abilities then we have to acknowledge that they make mistakes. Economists have often recognized that people make systematic cognitive errors by incorporating arbitrary behavioral assumptions reflecting such errors (e.g. money illusion) in some of their models. This raises the question of whether efforts by economists to obtain a better knowledge of the bounds of rationality will enable them to build better models.

Jonah Lehrer’s book ‘How we Decide’, provides a highly readable discussion of the ways in which limited cognitive abilities can affect decision-making in different contexts. I decided to read the book after reading some comments by Peter Boettke on the Coordination Problem blog.

Lehrer’s main message seems to be: ‘The mind is full of flaws, but they can be outsmarted’ (p.250). He implies that a major source of error is failure to think about the kind of decision being made and the kind of thought process it requires. Insufficient reasoning can obviously result in poor decisions when the mind is strongly influenced by emotional urges and impulses. But it is also possible for the mind to choke on excessive reasoning.

It is common to hear of instances when sporting champions choke at a crucial point in a game because they suddenly become self-conscious and interfere with their performance by consciously trying to avoid mistakes. It is also possible, however, for too much analysis to lead to poor decisions in relation to choices that might be thought likely to benefit from analysis. For example, in considering a trade-off between size of home and time required to commute to work some research has suggested that there may be a tendency for people to give to give greater weight to the size of the house the more time they spend deliberating, even if the additional space is superfluous (p.144). People may often make better choices when they use their conscious minds to gather information and then trust their emotions.

Everyone knows that inexperience is a common source of error but many of us fear the unpleasant symptoms of making mistakes. One of the crucial ingredients of successful education is encouragement of children to learn from their mistakes by praising them for their efforts rather than their cleverness (p. 51-3).

The book contains a chapter on our tendencies to be fooled by feelings – loss aversion, the perception of patterns that don’t exist, the tendency to over-value immediate gains relative to longer term costs etc. Attention has previously been drawn to such problems by Dan Ariely in ‘Predictably Irrational’ (discussed here) and Richard Thaler and Cass Sunstein in ‘Nudge’ (discussed here). Lehrer suggests that the best way to avoid such errors is to be aware of them and to check feelings with a little arithmetic (p.244).

It seems to me that one of the most important contributions of ‘How we Decide’ is to draw attention to the errors that result from our tendency to surrender to ‘shoddy top-down thinking’ because self-delusion feels better than uncertainty. This is reflected, for example, in the influence of party affiliations when voters consider complex political issues. Even expert advice can be biased by adherence to frameworks that are at variance with reality. Lehrer’s suggested remedy is to embrace uncertainty, entertain competing hypotheses and to remind yourself what you don’t know.

Different readers may see different implications for economics coming out of this book. The book has reinforced my support for Oliver Williamson’s view that modes of contracting that make large demands against cognitive competence should be disfavoured (‘The Economic Institutions of Capitalism’, 1985, p.46). Governance structures will fail if they require managers to have unlimited cognitive capacities. Humans tend to be strongly influenced by moral instincts and conventions, but they are also susceptible to temptations. Another implication is that decision-making skills are likely to vary greatly among different individuals. Modellers should be wary of assuming that everyone is equally susceptible to cognitive distortions or that they have equal abilities to learn from experience. Finally, while the book provides plenty of support for the view that the rational voter is a myth rather than a useful metaphor, it suggests to me that the worm – reflecting immediate emotional responses to what politicians are saying – is unlikely to be a good predictor of voter behavior. Focus groups initially gave the thumbs down to some of the most successful shows on television.

Is state sovereignty relevant to resource rent taxation?

The Henry tax review into Australia’s future tax system recommends:

‘Subject to transitional arrangements, the new rent-based tax should apply to existing projects, replacing existing charging arrangements. The allocation of revenue and risks from the new tax should be negotiated between the Australian and State governments’.

The federal government seems to be attempting to ignore this advice in imposing the new tax. It is proposing to reimburse mining companies for existing royalty payments rather than to replace existing charging arrangements. It has decided unilaterally how it proposes to use the additional revenue from the new tax. In selling the tax to the Australian public it is asserting that mineral resources are owned by all Australians, contrary to the legal position of ownership by the Crown, with state governments having constitutional authority for resource management.

The government of Western Australia is threatening a constitutional challenge to the new tax, but the federal government doesn’t seem to be particularly concerned about this. I’m no lawyer, but I imagine the federal government think they are on safe ground in calling the tax a profits tax rather than a resource rent tax.

However, even if the new tax is legal, I think the federal government should be concerned about the viability of their proposal not to reimburse mining companies for any new or additional royalties that might be charged by state governments. Whatever the High Court might decide about the validity of the new federal tax, it is not likely to rule that the imposition of a new tax by the federal government has extinguished the rights of state governments to raise royalty rates.

Are state governments likely to impose additional royalties? Some proposals for higher royalties were already in the pipeline in Western Australia prior to announcement of the new federal tax and it is possible that these charges will be accommodated in transitional arrangements. The state governments review their royalty charges from time to time and I imagine that they will continue to do so. It is quite possible that having read and digested the Henry report a state government could decide to change the basis of their charging arrangements to a resource rent tax and to increase revenues from the resources sector. In considering such a change the state government might note that there is nothing particularly magical about the 40 percent tax rate proposed by the federal government. They might even read in the Henry report that Norway imposes a total tax rate on petroleum rents of 78 percent.

The point I am leading to is that the new federal tax has not extinguished the potential for state governments to raise royalty rates. This remains a potential source of sovereign risk for mining investment in Australia. This consideration is additional to the argument in my earlier post (Does a resource rent tax solve the problem of sovereign risk?) that the proposed application of the new tax to existing mines would lead investors to perceive that they have under-estimated sovereign risks in Australia. Even if the federal government comes up with satisfactory transitional arrangements for the new tax, miners will still need to factor into their calculations an allowance for possible future increases in state government royalties.

In my view the federal government should take another look at the recommendations of the Henry report and seek negotiations with state governments about the allocation of revenue and risks from their proposed resources rent tax.

What metaphors help us to understand the functions of reason and emotion?

Plato argued that we can only be masters of ourselves if reason, the ‘human charioteer’ is able to control the dumb beasts of passion:

‘Now the winged horses and the charioteers of the gods are all of them noble and of noble descent, but those of other races are mixed; the human charioteer drives his in a pair; and one of them is noble and of noble breed, and the other is ignoble and of ignoble breed; and the driving of them of necessity gives a great deal of trouble to him. ... The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; he has a lofty neck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white, and his eyes dark; he is a lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the follower of true glory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided by word and admonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, put together anyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and of a dark colour, with grey eyes and blood-red complexion; the mate of insolence and pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and spur’ (‘Phaedrus’).

Plato’s metaphor seems to have provided the basis for an influential model of human flourishing which puts reason (or rationality) on a pedestal and views the emotions as crude and primitive. In his book, ‘How We Decide’(2010), Jonah Lehrer links Plato’s metaphor to Cartesian philosophy and notes that Freud used a similar metaphor in which the horse (id) provides the locomotive energy and the rider (ego) determines the goal and guides his powerful mount towards it (p.10-12).

However, Lehrer points out that this classical theory is ‘founded on a crucial mistake’: ‘What we have discovered when we look at the brain is that the horses and the charioteer depend on each other’ (p. 13). ‘When we are cut off from our feelings, the most banal decisions become impossible. A brain that can’t feel can’t make up its mind’ (p.15). We might like to think that reason plays a large role in our decisions, but if our feelings didn’t tell us what we like and dislike we would not be able to make decisions.

Jonathan Haidt has argued similarly that Plato’s metaphor ‘may overstate not only the wisdom but also the power of the charioteer. ... Reason and emotion must work together to create intelligent behavior, but emotion ... does most of the work’ (‘The Happiness Hypothesis’, 2006, p.13).

Haidt has his own metaphor, an elephant and its rider, to explain the relationship between the controlled and automatic systems that determine human behaviour:
‘The controlled system ... is better seen as an advisor. It’s a rider placed on the elephant’s back to help the elephant make better choices. The rider can see further into the future, and the rider can learn valuable information by talking to other riders or by reading maps, but the rider cannot order the elephant around against its will. ... The elephant and the rider each have their own intelligence, and when they work together well they enable the unique brilliance of human beings’ (p.17).

Jonah Lehrer uses a modern aeroplane in his metaphor to explain the functions of the emotional brain and the pre-frontal cortex:

‘To sit in a modern airplane cockpit is to be surrounded by computers. ... These computers are like the emotional brain of the plane. They process a vast amount of information and translate that information into a form that can be quickly grasped by the pilot. ... These computers are so reliable that they perform many of their tasks without any pilot input. ... Pilots are like the plane’s prefrontal cortex. Their job is to monitor these onboard computers, to pay close attention to the data on the cockpit screens. If something goes wrong, or if there’s a disagreement among the various computers, then it’s the responsibility of the flight crew to resolve the problem. ... When the onboard computers and pilot properly interact, it’s an ideal model for decision-making. The rational brain (the pilot) and the emotional brain (the cockpit computers) exist in perfect equilibrium, each system focusing on those areas in which it has a comparative advantage’ (p.256-8).

Which metaphor is best? I doubt whether one metaphor is the best aid to understanding of all aspects of human behaviour, but I think the elephant metaphor is better than the plane metaphor from a personal development perspective. It is possible to think of the rider and elephant as being responsible for their future performance as well as for their current performance. As Jonathan Haidt puts it, ‘virtue resides in a well-trained elephant’ (p.160). I don’t pretend know much about training elephants or their riders but it seems reasonable to suppose that they would have a stronger incentive to learn to work together and to improve their performance if they were held jointly responsible for their behaviour.

How can we ensure that parliaments are representative and governments are accountable?

An update of my views on the topic has now been published by "On Line Opinion":



‘In a really equal democracy, every or any section would be represented, not disproportionately, but proportionately. A majority of the electors would always have a majority of the representatives; but a minority of the electors would always have a minority of the representatives. Man for man they would be as fully represented as the majority. Unless they are, there is not equal government, but a government of inequality and privilege: one part of the people rule over the rest: there is a part whose fair and equal share of influence in the representation is withheld from them; contrary to all just government, but, above all, contrary to the principle of democracy, which professes equality as its very root and foundation’ (J S Mill, Representative Government, Chapter 7, 1861).

Some famous person has probably written in support of strong executive government which dominates parliament and is held in check only by periodical elections (as well as an independent judiciary etc) but I don’t know where to find an appropriate quote. Those who have commented on such a system have tended to refer to it disparagingly as an elective dictatorship. However, I think it is possible to defend a system that tends to deliver the governing party a substantial majority of seats on the grounds that it results in more accountable government than a proportional system in which no party has a clear majority. A government that dominates parliament cannot claim that it has not implemented its promises to the electorate because of obstruction by other parties. It has to wear the electoral consequences of its own actions.

The point I am trying to make is that while proportional representation might be a desirable characteristic of a parliament, it is undesirable to have a system of government in which parties go to the polls to seek endorsement of their policies and then, after the election, enter into negotiations to decide what policies the temporary coalition of parties forming the government will actually seek to implement. Parties forming such temporary coalitions tend to blame each other for poor outcomes and electors find it hard to tell who is responsible for what.

Various compromises between proportional representation and elective dictatorship are possible. One possibility is the reinforced proportional representation system used in Greece under which the party which wins the largest number of seats in parliament is allocated additional seats so that it more likely to be able to form a majority in its own right. Leaving aside the obvious point that it is difficult to envisage that Greece’s recent economic performance could have been much worse without this reinforcement of proportional representation, an arbitrary adjustment to numbers of seats seems somewhat inelegant (if not undemocratic).

Another possibility is to have a bi-cameral system with the government being formed in the lower house, elected on the basis of a system that usually produces workable majorities for a governing party or stable coalition (e.g. single member electorates) and an upper house, acting as a house of review, elected using proportional representation. As recent events in the UK show, single member electorates cannot always ensure that the party winning the largest number of votes is able to govern by itself (or even to form part of the government for that matter). But single member electorates have a reasonable track record in producing stable and accountable governments. This system has the added advantage of allowing voters to vote for a person to represent their locality rather than for a party (or party list).

Luke Malpass and Oliver Marc Hartwich have recently advocated a bi-cameral system, such as I have just described, to replace the single chamber proportional representation system in New Zealand (CIS Policy Monograph 109). This is also the system that we have in Australia.

So, does the Australian system provide the best possible compromise between a representative parliament and an accountable government? I don’t think so, because it gives too much power to the upper house. The Australian Constitution contains a sensible procedure to resolve a deadlock between the upper and lower houses of parliament – a joint meeting of both houses – but joint sittings can occur only after a double-dissolution election.

I think the requirement for an election to resolve deadlocks between the two houses of parliament tends to work against accountable government because it enables governments to blame obstruction in the Senate for failure to implement policies. Before going down the double-dissolution path governments have to consider the possibility that they will lose such elections or be returned to power with more obstructive upper houses than they had before. Although there are half a dozen occasions in Australian history when governments have brought on double-dissolution elections, they have been defeated on about half those occasions. A joint sitting of both houses of parliament has occurred on only one occasion.

Given the difficulty of amending the Australian Constitution it seems that we will have to continue to live with the adverse consequences for government accountability of the requirement for elections to resolve deadlocks. We can, however, take some solace from the fact that the election requirement has the virtue of providing a test of the extent to which governments have the courage of their convictions. The value of such a test has recently been highlighted by the current government’s decision not to trigger a double-dissolution election on the bill to establish a carbon emissions trading system in Australia.

Postscript 1:
After reading a post by Tim Harford I have been reminded of Kenneth Arrow's impossibility theorem. Rather than wondering where to find a quote from some famous person supporting elective dictatorship I could have quoted Kenneth Arrow to the effect that whatever electoral system you use you will always end up with some form of dictatorship (although some forms of dictatorship are worse than others). The inference that I think should be drawn from Arrow's impossibility theorem is that markets are usually better than politics in producing outcomes that are beneficial for everyone.

Postscript 2:
Joseph Schumpeter qualifies as a famous person who emphasized the value of strong executive government. In Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (1942) he wrote: 

"It is in fact obvious not only that proportional representation will offer opportunities for all sorts of idiosyncrasies to assert themselves but also that it may prevent democracy from producing efficient governments and thus prove a danger in times of stress. But before concluding that democracy becomes unworkable if its principle is carried out consistently, it is just as well to ask ourselves whether this principle really implies proportional representation. As a matter of fact it does not. If acceptance of leadership is the true function of the electorate's vote, the case for proportional representation collapses because its premises are no longer binding. The principle of democracy then merely means that the reins of government should be handed to those who command more support than do any of the competing individuals or teams".

I wrote more about Schumpeter's views of democracy here.

Which books should I recommend?

I am in the process of becoming an Amazon associate. This is unlikely to make me rich, but it is still worth doing to highlight some books relating to freedom and flourishing that I would like to recommend to readers.


Which books? When I started making a list I quickly noted around 30 titles, but the carousal widget that I had decided to use has room for only 10 books. So I have focussed on the books I would recommend to a person somewhat like myself – a person with a background in economic policy or business who is becoming increasingly interested in broad issues relating to human flourishing, including the role of liberty, the nature of happiness and the ethics of well-being.

My recommendations are not listed in any particular order. See the carousal (at right) for links to Amazon.

1. ‘Happiness: A History’, by Darrin McMahon.
This book traces the way ideas about happiness have changed through history. I particularly enjoyed his discussion of the inclusion of ‘pursuit of happiness’ in the US Declaration of Independence. There is a quote from the book in my post: Does the evolution of ideas about happiness intersect with the evolution of ideas about markets?

2. ‘Norms of Liberty’, by Douglas Rasmussen and Douglas Den Uyl.
Is liberty compatible with human flourishing? This book argues that not only is liberty compatible with human flourishing, it is also necessary because individual flourishing is an inherently self-directed activity. The book is not an easy read, but well worth the effort for anyone with any interest in political philosophy. The book is discussed briefly in my posts: Is freedom a necessary condition for human flourishing? and Why should we view individual rights as metanormative principles?

3. ‘Happiness: The science behind your smile’, by Daniel Nettle.
This little book provides an excellent introduction to the science of happiness. I particularly like Nettle’s discussion of different kinds of happiness and of the distinction between wanting and liking. Some comments relating to the book are included in posts here, here and here.

4. ‘The Logic of Life’, by Tim Harford.
This is my favourite among the spate of books that have been written over the last few years about the economics of everything. The basic idea is that if you want to understand how the world works keep in mind that people tend to respond to incentives. I have discussed the book here.

5. ‘Predictably Irrational’, by Dan Ariely.
This book is a good introduction to behavioural economics. Ariely describes experiments which show that we are often not as rational as we might think we are. I have discussed the book here.

6. ‘Well-being for Public Policy’, by Ed Diener, Richard Lucas, Ulrich Schimmack and John Helliwell.
This book probably has the best account currently available about the relevance of subjective well-being measures to consideration of public policy issues. I have some comments on the book here and here and in a review essay for ‘Policy’, Summer 2009-10.

7. ‘In Pursuit of Happiness and Good Government’, by Charles Murray.
This book was first published in 1988, but the views it presents are still highly relevant today. Anyone considering the potential relevance of happiness research to public policy should read this book. I have commented on the book here and here.

8. ‘The Pursuit of Unhappiness’, by Daniel Haybron.
This book is a philosophical exercise in clear thinking about the nature of happiness. It is fairly difficult to read, but provides plenty of food for thought about the directions of well-being research. It also provides some grounds for concern about the direction in which western society may be heading. I discussed the book here, here, here and here.

9. ‘The Happiness Hypothesis’, by Jonathan Haidt.
Martin Seligman, author of ‘Authentic Happiness’ is quoted on the cover of the book as saying: ‘For the reader who seeks to understand happiness, my advice is: Begin with Haidt’. That is high praise from the author of another very good book. I particularly like Haidt’s view that some of the conditions for happiness come from within us and others require relationships with other people, our work and 'something larger' than ourselves. There are some references to Haidt’s book in my posts here and here.

10. ‘What is Good and Why, by Richard Kraut.
This is a highly readable book about ethics. The main purpose of the book is to establish that we should specify ‘for whom’ or ‘for what’ when we talk about what is good. Kraut presents a developmental view of human well-being. I discussed the book in posts here , here and here.

Should we ever play the man rather than the ball?

I don’t think there is any situation on the sporting field where players are justified in playing the man rather than the ball. Immediately after writing that I have begun to think of exceptions. An exception should obviously be made for technical infringements of the rules that that have become an accepted part of the way some games are played. Should an exception also be made for giving a particularly dirty player in the other team an elbow in the ribs? It might be possible to convince an impartial observer that this could not have happened to a nicer person, but that doesn’t mean that the behaviour should be condoned. If we allow that violations of the code of behaviour can justify retaliation we are likely to end up with an all-in brawl rather than a ball game.


In case anyone is wondering why I am writing about sport, I am just using an analogy to introduce a discussion of the ethics of ‘playing the man’ in discussions of public policy. The post has been prompted by the comment of another blogger, Jim Belshaw, that I made a ‘cruel’ remark about Australia’s prime minister, Kevin Rudd, in a recent post on my blog. I implied that Mr Rudd's argument that the proposed resource rent tax will be paid mainly by foreign investors is similar to the nationalistic rhetoric that Hugo Chavez, president of Venezuela, has used to justify nationalization policies. To add insult to injury I suggested that Hugo, who is famed for long-winded speeches, was less verbose than Kevin.

I regret that comment because my intention on this blog is to raise the tone of policy discussion rather than to lower it. I don’t feel apologetic towards Mr Rudd, however, because I acted in retaliation for his past behaviour. I think Mr Rudd has done more than most other contemporary Australian politicians to lower the tone of public policy discussion in this country.

In trying to explain myself I have made an assertion that I now have to justify. The way politics is played in Australia it is fairly common for politicians to mis-represent the views of other politicians and to attempt to demonize them. But most politicians tend to treat academics with some respect unless they involve themselves directly in politics. Apart from Mr Rudd I don’t think many other politicians in this country who have sought to mis-represent the views of a Nobel-prize winning economist or to demonize him or her. I am referring in particular to Mr Rudd’s misrepresentation of the views of Friedrich Hayek, which I have discussed in an earlier post: Why does Rudd persist in misrepresenting Hayek? (On reflection, I also regret the sarcasm in the last sentence of that post.) In my view the real reason Rudd misrepresents Hayek is so that he can falsely claim that political opponents who respect Hayek’s views are adopting an extreme position.

As I noted in the introduction, I don’t think violations of codes of behaviour justify retaliation in kind. This applies just as much to policy discussions as to sport. The most appropriate response to bad behaviour by political leaders is to make other people aware of it.