How can policy advisors come to grips with complexity?

In this post I continue my discussion of the Australian Treasury’s wellbeing framework for policy advice. (The preceding discussion is here.)


The Treasury incorporates a range of considerations in its discussion of the complexity dimension of its wellbeing framework. The discussion is itself quite complex.

This section of the framework is headed: ‘Level of complexity that people are required to deal with’. This might be expected to lead to a discussion of the desirability of simple and transparent rules that are clearly defined (do not involve a large amount of administrative discretion) and which do not involve citizens and firms in incurring unnecessary legal fees and compliance costs to remain on the right side of the law. This aspect of complexity is covered, but much of the discussion involves somewhat deeper issues.

The discussion begins with a definition of complexity that does not actually clarify anything but does serve to make the point that policy decisions involve many interconnected considerations. The following paragraph discusses what the authors refer to as the conventional analysis of complexity that has focused on the economic impact of sets of rules. In that paragraph the authors suggest, among other things, that complexity ‘usually brings benefits both through a better targeting of rules and through the provision of greater certainty’. Benefits to whom? In my experience the complexity of government programs usually arises because of political pressure to make special provisions for particular groups. A paper by Ann Krueger and Roderick Duncan (NBER 4351), which is cited in the Treasury document, makes the important point that since a tendency for increasing complexity of controls is inherent in most efforts to regulate it should be taken into account in initial policy formulation.

The final paragraph of the section raises issues related to the ‘emergent properties’ of ‘complex adaptive systems’. The discussion takes place at such an abstract level, however, that I am not sure that anyone other than its author would know what it means. From my personal experience, when bureaucrats write like this they do so for a reason – for example, so that they can deny that they intended to convey a critical reader’s interpretation of their words, or so that they can claim to have covered points that they have actually chosen to omit. In view of this, rather than speculate about what the authors may have meant, I will present some points relating to the implications of complexity that I think the authors of the document should have incorporated explicitly (but more briefly than I have below).

First, in presenting policy advice it should not be presumed that political leaders will be capable of exerting top-down control to implement recommendations of their departmental advisors even if they, the political leaders, are not lacking in intestinal fortitude. When democratic political systems work well to promote ongoing policy improvements it is usually as a result of the development of widely-shared understandings that are often inherently fragile. One of the implications of this is that there may not be much point in proposing large scale reforms in a political environment that is receptive only to incremental change. Another implication is that there is an important role for public inquiries in providing forums in which the views of policy analysts may emerge as more widely-shared understandings - if those views can survive public scrutiny.

Second, it is important to understand the nature of problems before proposing solutions. This might be obvious to Treasury officers, but it is still worth emphasising in any public document discussing the implications of complexity for policy advice. Gary Banks, chairman of the Productivity Commission, has made the point as follows:

‘Half the battle is understanding the problem. Failure to do this properly is one of the most common causes of policy failure and poor regulation. Sometimes this is an understandable consequence of complex forces, but sometimes it seems to have more to do with a wish for government to take action regardless’ (‘Evidence-based policy making ...’ reprinted in ‘An Economy-wide view: speeches on structural reform’, 2010).

Elinor Ostrom has provided an excellent example of how poor understanding of problems can be a trap even for people who have some knowledge of economic theory:

‘Many textbooks on environmental policy present ... conventional theory of an open-access common-pool resource as the only theory needed for making effective policies ... . Massive deforestation in tropical countries and the collapse of multiple ocean fisheries are cited by many policy analysts and public officials as sufficient evidence to confirm the general validity of the theory. ... Policy analysts tend to distrust local citizens to create effective forms of governance. Consequently, they assume that multiplicities of self-organized regimes ... are by their very nature disorderly and ineffective. Order is presumed to result from central direction. ... These common-sense assumptions, however, lead to proposals to improve the operation of political systems that have the opposite effect. By removing decisions about the way to innovate, adapt, and coordinate efforts from those who are directly affected, these policy reforms have created institutions that are less able to respond to the problems for which they were created’ (‘Policy analysis in the future of good societies’, The Good Society, 11.1, 2002).

Elinor Ostrom observed that in many countries where governments have taken control of common-pool resources from local users the governments concerned have lacked the funds and personnel required to monitor these resources effectively. As a result many governments have exacerbated the resource management problems that they were trying to guard against.

Finally, in my view any discussion of the implications of complexity for policy advice that does not incorporate a reference to Friedrich Hayek’s insights about the dispersion of knowledge is deficient. Those insights seem to me to be just as relevant to explaining current problems in public provision of education and health services in Australia as to explaining the failure of economic planning in the former Soviet Union. Hayek’s insights about the implications of dispersed knowledge are particularly relevant to considering proposed public investments in infrastructure (such as the proposed broadband rollout). For all I know, the authors of Treasury’s wellbeing framework may have had good reasons to neglect mentioning Hayek’s insights. Nevertheless, I will attempt to compensate in a small way for their neglect by quoting a short passage from Hayek’s seminal article on the subject:

‘In ordinary language we describe by the word “planning” the complex of interrelated decisions about the allocation of our available resources. All economic activity is in this sense planning; and in any society in which many people collaborate, this planning, whoever does it, will have to be based on knowledge which, in the first instance, is not given to the planner but to someone else, which somehow will have to be conveyed to the planner. The various ways in which the knowledge on which people base their plans is communicated to them is the crucial problem for any theory explaining the economic process. And the problem of what is the best way of utilizing knowledge initially dispersed among all the people is at least one of the main problems of economic policy – or of designing an efficient economic system’ (‘The use of knowledge in society’, American Economic Review, 1945).

Summing up, I am obviously not quite as impressed with the Australian Treasury’s wellbeing framework for provision of policy advice as are senior Treasury officials. But I’m not well placed to judge the overall effect it has had on the quality of advice they offer. It is pleasing that the Treasury has been thinking broadly about the concept of wellbeing and has published a framework that it apparently finds useful for provision of policy advice.

How should wellbeing be considered in providing policy advice?

Every public policy analyst should know that the correct answer to this question is that wellbeing should be considered by comparing outcomes under existing institutions with likely outcomes under the alternative policies that are being contemplated. Bonus marks should be awarded to analysts who suggest that the risks associated with alternative policies should also be considered. Any analyst who suggests that comparisons should be made between the outcomes of existing policies and an unachievable perfect system should be recommended for a career change e.g. writing speeches for politicians.


What are the likely outcomes that are most relevant to consideration of wellbeing? Most economists would probably answer in terms of comparing the consumption possibilities over time associated with the alternative policies being considered. They might talk about potential Pareto improvements or about benefits and costs, including non-market benefits and costs. They might also talk about discount rates and distributional considerations. But I think the answer most economists would give could be fairly easily translated into a comparison of consumption possibilities over time.

The Australian Treasury provides a somewhat different answer in its wellbeing framework for provision of policy advice. Among the five dimensions of its wellbeing framework the Treasury does include consumption possibilities, the distribution of consumption possibilities and the level of risk that people are required to bear . The other two dimensions, however, are the level of opportunity and freedom that people enjoy – which is listed first – and the level of complexity that people are required to deal with.

When I first read the document containing Treasury’s wellbeing framework the first thing that struck me was the number of references to Amartya Sen. My first thought was somewhat cynical. I thought that the Treasury was feeling unloved and had decided to change its public image. It seemed to me that Treasury was sending out a signal that it was prepared to entertain broader concepts of wellbeing in order to counter the argument that it had a narrow economic focus. The Treasury had, of course, had a broad concept of well-being for a long time - at least since it issued a paper in the 1960s discussing limitations of GDP measurement - but it had also earned reputation over a long period for provision of hard-headed policy advice that was often unpalatable to governments. Since this had encouraged the development of competing, more political, sources of advice it seemed to me that the Treasury had decided that it needed to soften its image in order to stay in the game.

However, having looked more closely at the Treasury wellbeing framework, I now think it may be worth considering seriously as a move to consider broad issues relating to opportunity and flourishing, such as the issues that I am interested in on this blog. (See, for example, ‘Is the good society a useful concept?)

The Treasury document explains the relevance of Sen’s work as follows:

‘The recent work of Sen has sought to incorporate aspects of freedom from both the utilitarian and classical liberal approaches. He argues that freedom does have a special status for wellbeing, beyond its impact on happiness or pleasure. However, he expands the focus beyond simply the rights available to individuals, to include their effective opportunities to exercise those rights, given their personal and social circumstances’.

Sen’s concept of freedom is defined by ‘our capability to live the kinds of lives we have reason to value’. The main problem I have with this concept of freedom is Sen’s incorporation of a role for public debate and democratic decision-making in determining what kinds of lives we have reason to value. It seems to me that Sen’s capability concept doesn’t deserve the freedom label because it contains a strong element of paternalism.

This does not mean, however, that I think Treasury is on the wrong track in identifying opportunity and freedom in its wellbeing framework. As Robert Sugden has recently suggested, it is possible to conceive of opportunity as resting on ‘an understanding of persons as responsible rather than rational agents’. Each individual viewing the world from the standpoint of her own desires and beliefs, accepting her own entitlements as given and accepting responsibility for her own actions can value expanded opportunities for herself. (‘Opportunity as mutual advantage’, Economics and Philosophy (26)).

I don’t see any reason why Treasury should have any difficulty with the idea that in discussing opportunity and freedom it should view individuals as responsible for their own actions, even though they do not always act as rational agents. This does not preclude consideration of the consequences of paternalistic interventions – it just helps avoid confusing the meaning of freedom.

I had also intended to include discussion of the complexity dimension in this post, but I will leave that for another day. (Postscript: The discussion continues here.)

Is Buddhism opposed to individualism?

“Searching all directions with one’s awareness, one finds no one dearer than oneself. In the same way, others are fiercely dear to themselves. So one should not hurt others if one loves oneself.”

Who said that? Was it John Galt? No, it was the Buddha. The quote is from the Pali canon. Thanissaro Bhikkhu tells the delightful story behind the quote as follows in an article entitled ‘Hang on to your ego’, reproduced on the blog ‘Integral Options Cafe’:

‘King Pasenadi, in a tender moment with his favorite consort Queen Mallika, asks her, “Is there anyone you love more than yourself?” He’s anticipating, of course, that she’ll answer, “Yes, your majesty. You.” And it’s easy to see where a B-movie script would go from there. But this is the Pali canon, and Queen Mallika is no ordinary queen. She answers, “No, your majesty, there isn’t. And how about you? Is there anyone you love more than yourself?” The king, forced into an honest answer, has to admit, “No, there’s not.” Later he reports this conversation to the Buddha ... . the Buddha’s response is quoted above.

I was interested in Thanissaro Bhikkhu’s discussion of examples in the Buddha’s teachings of tips on healthy ego functioning because it seems relevant to a question I have been thinking about, namely the extent that Buddhist views of ethics differ from western views. In a review article I wrote about gross national happiness (GNH) I related a statement by Karma Ura, president of the Centre for Bhutan Studies, that governments should ‘create conditions for happiness in which individual strivings can succeed’ to Robert Nozick’s view of the ethics of social cooperation. I suggested that conditions that enable individual strivings to succeed would correspond to Nozick’s most fundamental level of ethics – the ethics of respect – mandating among other things respect for the rights of others. Nozick views the ethics of respect as the foundation upon which higher levels of ethics, including caring for the needs of others, may grow. (References to my article are given in my last post).

Before reading Thanissaro Bhikkhu’s article I was wondering how I would respond if someone suggested that I have placed an inappropriate western interpretation on what Karma Ura was writing about when he referred to individual strivings. What if he was talking about individual strivings to overcome self-love? I am now more confident that when a Buddhist refers to individual strivings there is a good chance that whatever they are talking about is consistent with what a westerner might refer to as healthy individual functioning.

If the Buddhist view of individual strivings was fundamentally different to the western view I would expect this to be evident in the psychological well-being section of the GNH questionnaire. However, the questions seem to cover similar ground to comparable western questionnaires, including recognition of the importance of self-worth, self confidence, overcoming difficulties, facing up to problems and enjoying life.

Delving further into Buddhist views about individualism I was reminded that the Dalai Lama is skeptical about the importance of cultural differences between easterners and westerners on issues relating to emotional management and ethics. He suggests that there is a very strong element of individualism in Buddhism:

‘One of the four laws of karma is, if you do not create the cause you will not experience the result. If you have created the cause, you will definitely experience the result. All this is individual, so the experiences you have are tied into your individuality’ (as reported by Daniel Goleman in ‘Destructive Emotions’, 2003, p. 254).

None of this implies that Buddhists, or anyone else for that matter, should be in favour of an atomistic individualism. I discussed why here last year.

Are Bhutanese people grossly happy?

Photo by Suzy Bates

Just about everyone who has heard of Bhutan would know that this tiny country – with population of about 800,000 in an area similar in size to Switzerland - has adopted Gross National Happiness as a national objective. The objective apparently has its origins in the 1970s in an assertion by the former king of Bhutan, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, that ‘Gross National Happiness is more important than Gross National Product’. Despite the origins of gross national happiness (GNH) in a play on words it is now recognized as an objective in Bhutan’s constitution.

I wrote a literature review article about GNH last year for Asian-Pacific Economic Literature (Vol 23 No 2). The article considers whether aggregate happiness is an appropriate policy objective and the advantages and disadvantages of various well-being indicators. (A policy brief summarising the article is available here; the final version of the article can be purchased here; and a draft is freely available here.) My conclusions, very briefly, were that it is possible to make sense of GNH as a policy objective if we think in terms of creating conditions in which individual strivings can succeed; that there are problems with happiness surveys and with composite measures of well-being (such as the human development index) as well as with GNP (and GDP). I acknowledged that the recently developed approach to GNH measurement in Bhutan is an impressive contribution, but my bottom line was that the best approach to well-being assessments is to gather together a suite of relevant indicators.

How is GNH measured in Bhutan? A few years ago the official answer was that happiness was measured by looking at the breadth of the smiles on the faces of the people. However a more quantitative and technical approach to measurement has recently been adopted. The underlying philosophy seems to be that a range of minimum conditions must be met before a person can be considered to be happy. The methodology involves attempting to measure the extent to which the attainments of members of the population approach a ‘sufficient level’ in nine dimensions: psychological well-being, time use, community vitality, diversity and resilience of cultural traditions, health, education, environment (perceptions and ecological knowledge), living standards and perceptions of governance. The methodology gives greater weight to large deficits in particular dimensions than to small deficits in several dimensions.

So, how happy are the people of Bhutan? Unfortunately, since Bhutan is the only country attempting to measure GNH, we can’t use the GNH methodology to compare the well-being of people in Bhutan and other countries. The initial survey results enable comparisons to be made between people in different regions in Bhutan – which may be useful for policy purposes within Bhutan – but is not helpful in making international comparisons.

In any case, I think the best way to assess the well-being of the Bhutanese people is to use a suite of indicators to look at how they are faring by comparison with India, their big neighbour. For example:

• GDP per capita in 2007 was $US 4,837, 75% higher than in India;

• the growth rate of real per capita GDP was 7.9% per annum over the decade to 2007; that for India was 4.9% per annum;

• average life expectancy is only slightly higher than in India - 65.7 versus 63.4;

• adult literacy is lower than in India - 53% versus 66%;

• poverty rates are much lower in Bhutan than in India – 26% with daily income below $1.25 versus 42% for India;

• average life satisfaction in Bhutan (according to nef estimates) is about 11 per cent higher than in India.

It seems to me that even though the people of Bhutan have plenty to smile about there is still room for improvement in some aspects of their well-being e.g. health and education.

Is there a progress paradox?

In his book, ‘The Progress Paradox’ (2004) Gregg Easterbrook suggested that if his readers’ great-great-grandparents materialized in the United States of the present day they might say that it is the realization of utopia, ‘except for the clamour and speed of society, and trends in modern music’ (p. xv). The supposed paradox is that people who live in the U.S. (and other countries with similar standards of living) ‘live in a favored age yet do not feel favored’ (p. xx).

The sub-title of Easterbrook’s book is ‘How life gets better while people feel worse’. His account of how practically everything in our lives has been getting better seems to me to be comprehensive and unassailable. However, I don’t think his suggestion that ‘people feel worse’ while life gets better stands up to scrutiny.

Easterbrook claims:

‘Today Americans tell pollsters that the country is going downhill; that their parents had it better ; that they feel unbearably stressed out; that their children face a declining future ...’ (p. xv).

Let us look at each of the claims made in the quoted passage, in turn:

• Have Americans been telling pollsters that the country has been going downhill while their own lives have been getting better? The latest Gallup poll appears to provide support for that proposition: only 19 percent of Americans are satisfied with ‘the way things are going in the United States at this time’. But this data is highly volatile. Since this poll started in 1979 there have been three other periods of sub-20 percent satisfaction ratings - all of which have coincided with difficult economic times. In 1999, after several years of strong economic growth, about 70 percent of Americans were satisfied with the way things were going. The evidence does not support the view that Americans have been telling pollsters that the country has been going downhill during periods when their own lives have been getting better.

• Have Americans been telling pollsters that ‘their parents had it better’? No. In surveys conducted by the Pew Research Centre nearly two-thirds of respondents say that their standard of living exceeds that of their parents at the age they are now. The proportions have been similar in all survey years since 1994. (Chart here.)

• Have Americans been telling pollsters that ‘they feel unbearably stressed out’? Not really. In a 2008 survey, conducted by the Pew Research Centre, 36 percent said they experience stress frequently, a similar proportion said they experience stress sometimes and the remainder claimed that they experienced it rarely or never.

• Have Americans been telling pollsters that ‘their children face a declining future’? No, at least not in the survey results I have seen. Research by the Pew Research Centre suggests that the number of Americans who consider that the future will be better than the present substantially exceeded those who consider it will be worse in all years surveyed from 1964 to 2006. It would not be surprising if these numbers have turned around since the global financial crisis – but that could hardly be attributed to people feeling worse while life gets better.

In my view Easterbrook’s progress paradox is a myth.

If there is a progress paradox in the U.S. it relates to the happiness of particular groups rather than to the whole population. For example, there is a puzzle as to the causes of declining female happiness, which is discussed in a recent article by Betsey Stevenson and Justin Wolfers.

There has also been a declining trend since the 1970s in the percentage of those who identify with the political left who are ‘very happy’. It might be possible to argue that this is a progress paradox if one could believe that self-styled progressives are actually in favour of progress.

Leaving that aside, Gregg Easterbrook’s thoughts about what he calls complaint proficiency might provide an explanation for the apparent decline in happiness of those who identify with the political left:

‘About many things, especially injustice, we should complain. But we practice complaining so much, and on so many minor issues, that we become too proficient: And then complain more, if only because we are confident we are good at it. Expressing gratitude or appreciation does not come easily to us because we practice it so little’ (p. 118).

Is democracy akin to a process of scientific experimentation?

In his book, ‘The Science of Liberty’ (2010), Timothy Ferris argues that liberal democracy and science are similar in important respects:

‘Both start with tentative ideas, go through agonies of experimentation, and arrive at merely probabilistic conclusions that remain vulnerable to disproof. Both are bottom-up systems, constructed more from individual actions ... than from a few allegedly impervious precepts. A liberal democracy in action is an endlessly changing mosaic of experiments, most of which partially or entirely fail’ (p 13).

Ferris acknowledges that these failed experiments make the democratic process frustratingly inefficient but he argues that the great strength of liberal democracy is its capacity to sustain the experimental process.

I think this view of liberal democracy as akin to a scientific process is a desirable ideal rather than a description of how democratic systems actually work. Before elaborating, however, I would like to praise this book for shedding light on the relationship between liberty and science. With the benefit of having read the book, I think it is valid to depict the relationships between liberty, economic progress and the advance of knowledge as shown below.

If I had drawn such a diagram before I read the book I doubt whether I would have thought to draw an arrow running directly from liberty to advance of knowledge. The author’s main achievement, to my mind, is in describing the historical relationship between liberty and the advance of knowledge. The book illustrates that, to use the authors words ‘science demanded liberty and demonstrated its social benefits, creating a symbiotic relationship in which the freer nations were better able to carry on the scientific enterprise, which in turn rewarded them with knowledge wealth and power’ (p 7).

Before reading the book I was aware of some of the relevant history, such as the Vatican’s attempts to suppress Galileo’s ideas and the negative influence of Lysenko and communist ideology on the biological sciences and agricultural production in the Soviet Union. At the same time, however, I tended to think of the advance of knowledge as something that occurs exogenously with the passage of time - as it is often modelled in the economic growth literature – rather than as a product of liberty.

One of the most interesting things I learned from the book is the extent to which scientifically-minded individuals have been at the forefront in promoting liberty. Isaac Newton was not only a scientist but also a strong proponent of liberty and a close friend of John Locke. Thomas Paine, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, who played large roles in inciting and carrying out the American revolution, were amateur scientists. Thomas Jefferson apparently ranked his service as first head of the U.S. Patent Office as comparable with having written the Declaration of Independence and been twice elected president.

In my view Ferris makes a strong case that the U.S. founding fathers deliberately adopted a structure of government that would sustain an ongoing series of policy experiments, rather than attempt to guide society towards a specific goal (p 102). By contrast, the French revolutionaries assumed that the point of the revolution was to implement a particular philosophy – stemming from Rousseau’s view that the power of the state should be used to impose equality (p 120). The American revolution resulted in an imperfect system of government but the French revolution resulted in a major disaster for the people of France.

As I see it the main problem in viewing liberal democracy as akin to a process of scientific experimentation is the weakness of democratic processes for ending policy experiments that partially fail. Elections seem to be a reasonably effective way for citizens to avoid being governed by despots, to get rid of politicians who are obviously corrupt and to experiment with new policies. However, even policy proposals that are viewed as radical reforms rarely involve more than a tweaking of the failing policy experiments that already exist.

The mosaic of policy experiments being conducted under liberal democracies at any time seems to me to be much more path dependent than scientific research. Unproductive avenues of research are replaced much more readily than government programs that are failing. The best we can hope for from policy reforms is that the tweaking of the existing policy experiment will set in train an evolutionary process that will eventually result in better outcomes.

The increasing involvement of the federal government in funding of hospitals in Australia illustrates the processes involved. The basic problem prior to federal intervention was ensuring appropriate access to hospital services for people who did not qualify for free access under the means tests applied by the hospitals and state governments. Some policy experimentation by the federal government was probably inevitable to attempt to solve the perceived problem – whenever the states experience a funding problem a substantial proportion of the Australian electorate expect the federal government to ‘do something’.

There were basically two kinds of policy experiment that might have been conducted. Under the first approach the federal government would offer to fund hospital care for those who claimed to be unable to pay for insurance, using the federal tax system to recover funds from those who were falsely claiming financial hardship. Under the second approach, the federal government would give funds to the states on condition that the state governments solved the means test and access problems. The second approach was adopted and we ended up with free access to basic hospital care for everyone who is still alive when they reach the top of the waiting list – as well as confusion of responsibility for service delivery, with state governments blaming inadequate federal funding for ongoing problems.

If the democratic process in Australia was akin to a process of scientific experimentation it seems reasonable to suppose that the current hospital funding experiment, that had its origins in the 1940s, would have long been abandoned in favour of a different kind of experiment more in tune with the market realities. Instead, what we have is a federal government proposal to tweak federal funding – to make it more closely related to services actually provided – being put forward as a major reform initiative. I think the most we can hope is that if it is implemented this proposal might possibly push the evolution of hospital funding in a more sensible direction.

Similar problems of path dependency are evident in the policy experiments in many different policy areas in Australia and in many policies adopted in other liberal democracies. The world would be a better place if democratic processes were more like the processes of scientific experimentation.

Is a great big new tax such a bad idea?

‘Where have you been? Have you been hiding from me?’ I saw it was Jim speaking when I looked up from reading the paper. I hadn’t exactly been avoiding him, but then I hadn’t really missed not seeing him for a few months.


Jim asked me if I could give him a lift home. He gave me some long and convoluted explanation about why he needed a lift, but I thought he was probably just looking for a captive audience - someone to talk to about something that was on his mind.

He certainly did have something on his mind. As soon as we started off he asked me what I thought of the outcome of the Copenhagen climate change summit. I admitted that I thought it was fairly predictable. Given the way western governments were approaching the issue it would have been hard for China and India to accept that they were serious about achieving concerted action even if the science was settled. I said that if governments thought the stock of greenhouse gas emissions was a serious problem they would be focusing on the incentives needed to develop technologies that would reduce the stock of emissions, rather than just attempting to cap the growth of emissions.

Jim said: ‘I thought that emissions trading schemes, like the one Kevin Rudd is proposing were meant to provide appropriate incentives for firms to develop better technologies.’ I responded that in my view Rudd’s ETS stood for Enormous Transfer Scheme. I suggested that the Australian government was attempting to confuse welfare issues with environmental issues in order to smuggle income redistributions into the scheme. I added that it was crazy for Australia to go it alone without concerted international action and that if we are concerned about incentives for developing new technologies we should be thinking in terms of explicit taxes rather than cap and trade systems.

Jim said: ‘Ah, that’s Warwick McKibbin’s view isn’t it.’ While I was still pondering whether I had under-estimated Jim’s knowledge of the topic, he pointed to a house we were just passing. ‘Look at that abomination’ he said. I assumed that he was referring to the solar panels that covered a substantial part of the roof. I said: ‘I don’t think they look too bad, actually’. ‘It’s not how they look’, he replied. ‘Every time I pass that house it reminds me that the government subsidies that encourage people to put those things on their roofs are an abomination. Solar panels are about the most costly method there is of generating electricity. If governments were really serious about climate change they would be spending taxpayer’s money more wisely so we get bigger bangs for our bucks.’

I observed that Jim’s comment must mean that he was obviously not a fan of Tony Abbott’s winner-picking proposals to reduce CO2 emissions. Jim said: ‘I wouldn’t mind so much if Abbott could actually pick a winner to subsidize. The technologies that he has picked so far are either proven losers or have no track record. If he really wanted to pick a technology that had some hope of competing with fossil fuels without huge subsidies he would advocate the nuclear power option.’

I couldn’t help asking: ‘Does that mean that you would support revival of the proposal to build a nuclear power station at Murray’s beach on Jervis Bay?’ When I glanced across to see how Jim was reacting to the idea of a nuclear power station in his own back yard, he growled: ‘Look where you are going!’

After what seemed like a long silence, Jim asked: ‘What do you think of no regrets policies?’ I replied: ‘What, like the federal government’s home insulation scheme?’ Jim replied: 'I think the government might actually be regretting introducing that scheme with so much haste last year. No, what I meant was a great big new tax on carbon emissions'.

I was dumbfounded. When I asked Jim to explain how this could be a no regrets policy he asked me whether I had supported the introduction of the GST as a broad-based tax to replace less efficient forms of taxation. When I nodded he then asked: ‘Do you think a tax on carbon emissions would be a more efficient way of raising revenue than existing taxes on insurance and stamp duties on property transfers?’ I had to admit that it would probably be more efficient than some other taxes. Jim then said: ‘So wouldn’t it make sense to introduce a great big new tax on carbon emissions to replace other taxes? If we do this we might even be able to have an impact on global emissions by persuading governments in some other countries that this is a good idea’.

While I was pondering how to respond Jim laughed and said: ‘I don’t expect you to see anything about this on your blog. Judging from what you have written there about climate change I expect that the polar ice caps would need to melt before you would support introduction of a tax on carbon emissions as a precautionary measure’.

Does persistence provide a basis for morality?

Before I write anything further I should clarify what I mean by persistence in this context. Survival is probably the most appropriate synonym. The question was prompted by Martin Walker’s book, ‘Life! Why we exist ... and what we must do to survive’ (2006). More information about the author can be found on his blog.


Martin Walker’s book is an extremely well-written attempt to promote a better understanding of the fundamental principles that explain why we exist and to use those principles as a basis for thinking about how we can live meaningful lives. The book begins with a story about a child watching two old men playing chess and wondering who is winning. Most of the book has been written from the standpoint of a person who is observing the game of life in order to infer the most basic rules and then to consider what implications those rules have for the way the game is played.

The main message of the first part of the book is that the evolutionary principles that explain material existence and the emergence of life are ‘the principles of coming into being and persistence’. In later parts of the book the author uses those evolutionary principles to make moral judgements.

I expect that some other readers would share my initial concern that the concept of persistence does not seem to be a particularly appealing basis for a system of ethics. The problem arises in part because persistence is associated with survival of the fittest and concepts like the selfish gene and even ‘might makes right’. However, the author manages to argue that we should have regard to the effects of our actions on the community and species, and on other living things. He suggests: ‘To answer any moral question pertaining to living organisms we must ultimately determine whether the act of choice will tend to make a positive contribution to the persistence of life as a form’ (p. 81).

How does Martin make the transition from the persistence principle, as an explanation of what ‘is’, to the persistence principle, as an ethical principle providing guidance on how we ‘ought’ to behave? It may be worth noting in passing that he rules out the idea that there is merit in acting in accordance with an ultimate purpose that lies behind persistence. He claims that material existence has no purpose (p 31-2). Martin’s transition from ‘is’ to ‘ought’ is based on parallels between moral choices made by humans and the survival instincts of non-conscious organisms that lead them to act in ways that will benefit their own persistence or the persistence of their relatives or communities. He writes: ‘As conscious organisms, we use concepts of good and bad to guide our actions, a process that simply extends the non-conscious process’ (p. 65). The final step in the transition from ‘is’ to ‘ought’ is made with an explicit value judgement:
‘That which contributes to our persistence, or the persistence of our species, or the persistence of life as a form is definitely better than that which does not. Contribution to persistence is good, detriment to persistence is bad’ (p. 65-6).

In my view it would be difficult for anyone to mount a convincing argument against such sentiments - except perhaps on the grounds that they do not go far enough. Persistence is good, but flourishing is better!

This brings me to my only critical point. While reading this book I found myself wondering at various times how the author’s views relate to those of Aristotle, Ayn Rand, Robert Nozick in ‘Invariances’ and Matt Ridley in ‘The Origins of Virtue’. The part of ‘Invariances’ dealing with ethics seems highly relevant (I have written a very brief summary here). I think many of Matt Ridley’s observations in ‘The Origins of Virtue’ are also highly relevant. I would particularly like to see further discussion of Ridley’s view that environmental ethics do not come naturally to humans: ‘Yet the conclusion that seems warranted that there is no instinctive environmental ethic in our species – no innate tendency to develop and teach restrained practice. Environmental ethics are therefore to be taught in spite of human nature, not in concert with it. They do not come naturally’ (p 226). I wonder whether that claim is supported by people who have conducted research on environmental norms, e.g. Elinor Ostrom.

If Martin Walker had spent more time in his book considering the views of other people I would have found that illuminating. It would, however, have made the book longer and more difficult to read. I think the main virtue of this book is in providing a clear and simple exposition of a point of view that deserves serious consideration.

How far can Ayn Rand's ethical egoism be defended?

In a post a few months ago I discussed whether Ayn Rand actually viewed selfishness as a virtue. I suggested that in arguing that selfishness is a virtue she was adopting a peculiar view of selfishness because the heroes of her novels did not seem to me to be particularly selfish.


The point was explained more clearly by Neera Badhwar in the recent discussion of Ayn Rand’s ethical thought on Cato Unbound (What’s living and dead in Ayn Rand’s moral and political thought):
‘Like Aristotle, Rand holds that the virtues, including justice, are not only means to the agent’s happiness, but also an essential, constitutive part of it. Julia Annas calls Aristotle’s ethical egoism a “formal” egoism because it essentially incorporates regard for others. Rand’s eudaimonistic egoism, likewise, is a formal egoism’.

Some other participants in the Cato discussion were not so sure that Rand viewed the virtues as an essential, constitutive part of the agent’s happiness.

Roderick Long noted that Rand appears to waver between treating virtue as a constitutive part of the agent’s own interest and as an instrumental strategy for attaining that interest: ‘The constitutive approach predominates in her novels: the chief reason that Rand’s fictional protagonists ... do not cheat their customers, for example, is pretty clearly that they would regard such parasitism on the productive efforts of others as directly inconsistent with the nobility and independence of spirit that they cherish for themselves, and not because they’re hoping that a policy of honesty will maximize their chances of longevity’. He suggests, however, that in her philosophical writings that ‘her emphasis began to shift, though never unequivocally, to the instrumental reading’.

Other participants suggested that Michael Huemer had an instrumental reading of Rand's views in mind in his initial contribution to the discussion. Huemer suggested that: ‘ethical egoism posits that the only thing that ought to matter intrinsically to me is my own welfare—for me, my own welfare or happiness is the only end in itself. It follows from this that I ought not to regard other individuals as ends in themselves; rather, I should see them only as means to my happiness—just as I see everything else in the world. This is a very simple and straightforward implication of the theory. I cannot hold my own well-being as the only end in itself, and simultaneously say that I recognize other persons as ends in themselves too’.

In defending the constitutive interpretation, Neera Badhwar made the point that ‘Rand shows her philosophy in the worlds she creates in her novels better than in her non-fictional statements’. I think this is a good point. Rand’s ongoing influence stems mainly from her novels rather than her philosophical writings.

Much of the Cato discussion centred on the question of whether what is good and right for one individual can ever conflict with what is objectively good and right for another individual. Douglas Rasmussen expressed his view that ‘if human flourishing is individualized and agent-relative ... then this would mean that human flourishing is different for each person, and thus it is possible for there to be conflict—that is, there is no way that one can in principle rule this out’.

Roderick Long was closest to endorsing Rand’s view that there can be no conflicts between two people’s rational interests: ‘One’s individual nature can make the requirements of human nature more specific, but it cannot contradict them. ...So the fact that the human good is individualized differently for different people doesn’t entail that one person’s good can conflict fundamentally with another’s.’

Neera Badhwar responded by suggesting that such fundamental conflicts, including situations where there are two equally good candidates for one job, occur frequently.

I think it is appropriate to give Douglas Rasmussen the final word in this highly selective summary of a complex discussion:

‘I do think that it is possible for people to cooperate peaceably. This is why basic negative rights are so important, but the issue here between me and Rand seems to be whether the existence of such rights depends on the assumption that what is objectively good for one individual cannot ever conflict with what is objectively good for another. I don’t assume this. She did.’

Postscript:
When I think further about the example of two equally qualified job applicants competing for one position it seems to me that this is a fairly trivial example of conflict of interest because the convention that the employer should choose between the applicants is not in question.


However, not all conflicts between what is good or right for different individuals can be easily resolved by reference to widely accepted conventions about the rights of various parties. For example, individuals can make rational decisions about the kind of music that is good for their families to listen to and yet come into conflict with their neighbours if they play that music loudly enough to interfere with their neighbours’ enjoyment of peace and quiet. Some might try to argue that such conflicts cannot occur among rational people because rational people would not play their music loudly enough to upset their neighbours. I think that stretches the definition of rationality too far because it implies advance knowledge of how neighbours will react. In my view people who find themselves involved in such conflicts are likely to be able to negotiate better solutions if they openly acknowledge their different interests and, most importantly, view mutual respect and peaceful co-existence as of over-riding importance.

Who can tell the history of the future?

Jacques Attali thinks he can. Attali, author of ‘A Brief History of the Future’, is an eminent French economist who was an advisor to President Mitterrand during the 1980s and has since become a big wheel in microfinance. On the cover of the book, Alvin Toffler is quoted as describing Attali as ‘one of the most brilliant, original minds in Europe’. That is one of the reasons why I bought the book.


As the title suggests, Attali has written the book as though he is writing the history of what is going to happen over the next century or so. And the book is written as though ‘history’ drives what happens in the future. For example, near the end the author suggests: ‘History will thus drive the integration of collective intelligences into a universal intelligence; it will also be endowed with a collective memory that will preserve and accumulate its knowledge. ... Universal intelligence will even be able to conceive of machines in its own service, defending the common good on its behalf. ... Universal intelligence may next bring about an intelligence peculiar to the species, a hyperintelligence that will act in its own interests ...’ (2009 edition, p. 273).

I strongly support attempts to consider the possible future implications of economic and other factors that are impacting our lives and the environment in which we live. At its best, this is what Attali’s book does. At its worst the book seems to me to read like a work of science fiction with inadequate plot development.

The first part of Attali’s book contains a history of capitalism as a story in which the economic core moved progressively from one city to another – beginning in Bruges around 1200 and moving in turn to Venice, Antwerp, Genoa, Amsterdam, London, Boston, New York and Los Angeles. I found this part of the book to be interesting and illuminating. I think the author makes the point fairly convincingly that new core cities often benefit as much from adversity affecting existing cores and potential rivals as from their own intrinsic advantages. Nevertheless, Attali has not convinced me that it makes sense to think of the current world economy as having a single city core in Los Angeles, despite all the technological advances that have occurred in California in recent decades.

The main phases of Attali’s history of the future are: the end of the American empire; the emergence of a stateless planetary empire (an oxymoron ?) characterized by global markets, individualist values and narcissistic ideals; then a series of wars and possibly hyperconflict; and finally, the emergence of planetary hyperdemocracy.

Why can America’s influence be expected to wane? Attali writes, unconvincingly in my view, of ‘irretrievable scarcities’ and ‘stagnating technology’, but he also suggests that like other major economic powers in the past America will ultimately be brought down by a financial crisis. According to Attali’s timetable, this is likely to occur around 2025 or 2030. That seems to be well within the realms of possibility if fiscal deficits and associated foreign borrowing are not brought under control. Unlike many other countries, however, the U.S. has a reasonable track record over more than a century of returning to responsible fiscal management when a major fiscal crisis threatens. While America seems likely to become more like Europe during the next few years, I think the odds are that fiscal responsibility will be restored in the U.S. before it reaches the stage where Greece, for example, now finds itself.

What happens after the end of the American empire? It begins promisingly enough with fulfillment of what might be called an anarcho-capitalist’s dream - big governments collapse, like piles of wet manure, as provision of services such as health care, education and security are handed over to the private firms.

Attali suggest that insurance companies would play a major role in this globally privatised society. They would gradually come to dictate planetary norms by penalizing smokers, drinkers, the obese etc. who represent high insurance risks. They would require clients to refrain from behavior that might increase insurance risks and introduce surveillance systems to ensure that contract conditions were met. That sounds like a healthy dose of reality to me. Why should people whose behavior makes them high insurance risks be subsidized by others? Those wanting to avoid surveillance would presumably have the options of paying higher premiums or carrying their own risks.

However, Attali’s vision of the globally privatised society is alarming. He suggests that while Africa vainly struggles to construct itself , the rest of the world will begin to deconstruct itself under the ‘hammer blows of globalization’. He writes: ‘Tomorrow’s Africa will therefore not resemble today’s West. Rather, it is tomorrow’s West that will resemble today’s Africa’ (p. 184). I don’t think readers are ever told why this will happen. Attali suggests that weakened states will no longer be able to afford to provide income support to the poor, but supporting the poor will not be a burden if globalization provides widespread economic opportunities. At one point (p. 255) he suggests that ‘market democracies have travelled a large part of the road predicted by the author of Das Kapital’. Perhaps he is implying that we should look for an explanation of his fantasy about the effects of globalization in the predictions of Karl Marx about the consequences of technological change and capital accumulation.

The next part of the story is about wars. To cut a boring story short, Attali tells us that there will be disaffection everywhere and it might all end in hyperconflict. After that, however, everyone will live happily ever after in a world characterized by microfinance and voluntary organizations run by nice people a lot like Mother Teresa and Melinda Gates. Attali’s version of utopia (thankfully he refrains from calling it hyperutopia) sounds OK to me. I do have concerns, though, that the hyperintelligence, ‘that will act in its own interests’, might actually be the ultimate Leviathan of big government. As in ‘Star Wars’, the empire strikes back!

Perhaps the most appropriate way for me to end this review is with a message for readers living in the next Century: May the Force be with you - and protect you from the hyperintelligence.

Does the concept of national character make sense?

In my last post I noted that J S Mill argued that Jeremy Bentham did not qualify as a ‘true teacher of social arrangements’ because he was unable to point out how ‘national character’ ... ‘can be improved, and how it has been made what it is’.


It is clear that Mill saw national character as fundamental to human flourishing: ‘That which alone causes any material interests to exist, which alone enables any body of human beings to exist as a society, is national character: that it is, which causes one nation to succeed in what it attempts, another to fail; one nation to understand and aspire to elevated things, another to grovel in mean ones; which makes the greatness of one nation lasting, and dooms another to early and rapid decay’ (Bentham, 1838).

What is national character? A few years earlier, Mill had provided a sketchy outline of factors influencing national character in the context of considering the limitations of Bentham’s approach. He wrote: ‘A theory, therefore, which considers little in an action besides that action’s own consequences, will generally be sufficient to serve the purposes of a philosophy of legislation. Such a philosophy will be most apt to fail in the consideration of the greater social questions—the theory of organic institutions and general forms of polity; for those (unlike the details of legislation) to be duly estimated, must be viewed as the great instruments of forming the national character; of carrying forward the members of the community towards perfection, or preserving them from degeneracy’ (Remarks on Bentham’s philosophy, 1833).

What Mill had in mind in writing about national character seems to involve, among other things, what Douglass North has referred to as informal institutions or informal constraints. North’s institutional economics does not attempt to provide the explanation of national character that Mill criticized Bentham for not providing. By focusing explicitly on institutions, however, North has been able to make substantial advances towards a framework for analysis of social progress.

North writes: ‘In our daily interaction with others, whether within the family, in external social relations, or in business activities, the governing structure is overwhelmingly defined by codes of conduct, norms of behavior, and conventions’ (‘Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance’, 1990: 36). He has explained the influence of such informal institutions on economic performance in the following terms: ‘Effective traditions of hard work, honesty and integrity simply lower the cost of transacting and make possible complex productive exchange. Such traditions are always reinforced by ideologies that undergird those attitudes’ (p 138).

Where do these ideologies come from? North suggests that our subjective perceptions ‘are continually being filtered through existing (culturally determined) mental constructs’. (p.183). At the level of the individual, ideological change can occur in a variety of ways. For example, it can occur as a consequence of changes in economic conditions that cause people to change their mental models of how the world works, changes in communications costs that influence how easily people can share their values and perceptions with others, and through institutional changes that influence the cost of expressing convictions that are at variance with conventional wisdom.

It seems to me that North provides a useful framework in which to consider the concerns that Mill expressed about mass media leading to the ‘growing insignificance of the individual in the mass’ which ‘corrupts the very foundation on the improvement of public opinion itself’ (See: Are J S Mill’s view about progress still relevant today?). Mill was concerned that the growth of the mass media would result in the weakening of ‘the influence of the more cultivated few over the many’. Paradoxically, those whom Mill would have viewed as ‘cultivated’ - people like himself - subsequently had a strong influence on public opinion on issues such as slavery and the emancipation of women. Nevertheless, I doubt whether Mill would consider that there has been much improvement in ‘national character’ since his time.

Mill’s approach seems quaint today because he was asserting that the views of a particular class of educated people should be considered to be cultivated and set above those of others. In my view he was right to recognize that some opinions deserve more respect than others but it is up to individual members of the public to decide for themselves whose views deserve respect.

Even if the public could be confident that opinions of experts are founded on a basic respect for truth there would remain the huge problem in choosing between conflicting expert opinions on complex topical issues. How can differing expert views be evaluated in a context which informs public opinion and discourages intervention by those seeking to confuse issues for economic or political advantage? How can the informal rules of the game of public discussion of topical issues be improved to encourage the development of public attitudes on public policy issues that are consistent with widely-accepted ethical values? Can the informal rules be changed so that overt populism is exposed in the media as disrespect for the intelligence of the public rather than viewed as clever politics? What changes in the rules of the game would encourage Australia's political leaders to make thoughtful contributions rather than presenting inane gibberish under headings designed to convey the impression that they are preparing for challenges of the future?

How much was J S Mill's view of progress influenced by personal experience?

In my last post I suggested that while J S Mill assisted in the triumph of the idea of progress, he was concerned that public opinion was becoming more powerful without becoming much more wise. One of the remedies he suggested in the article ‘Civilisation’, published when he was about 30 years of age (1836) was for universities to become dedicated to inspiring an intense love of truth.


The mental crisis that Mill suffered when 20 years old seems to have played an important role in the subsequent development of his views, including his views about progress. Mill recounts in his autobiography that the crisis involved, among other things, the sudden realization that he would not feel happy if all the ‘changes in institutions and opinions’ that he had been looking forward to were to be effected instantly.

The explanations that have been put forward for this crisis include depression and boredom. I think Richard Reeves is probably on the right track, however, in suggesting that Mill ‘suddenly saw the hollowness of the philosophical religion to which he had subscribed’ (‘John Stuart Mill, Victorian Firebrand: 63). This philosophical religion was Benthamite utilitarianism. It seems likely that Mill would not have been filled with joy about the prospect of instantaneous implementation of the reforms he had been advocating because he perceived that they would have done little to improve ‘national character’. In his essay, ‘Bentham’ (1838) Mill argued that Bentham did not qualify as a ‘true teacher of social arrangements’ because he was unable to point out how ‘national character’ ... ‘can be improved, and how it has been made what it is’. Mill suggested that Bentham’s philosophy ‘can teach the means of regulating the merely business part of the social arrangements’, but Bentham ‘committed the mistake of supposing that the business part of human affairs was the whole of them’.

Elijah Millgram has drawn attention to another aspect of Mill’s mental crisis that seems to have influenced the subsequent development of his views (here). Mill ascribed his recovery to, among other things, thinking his way through what we now call the problem of determinism. Millgram makes a strong case that Mill was suffering from a sense of moral unfreedom.

In ‘A System of Logic’ (1843) Mill wrote: ‘Now, a necessitarian, believing that our actions follow from our characters, and that our characters follow from our organization, our education, and our circumstances, is apt to be, with more or less of consciousness on his part, a fatalist as to his own actions, and to believe that his nature is such, or that his education and circumstances have so moulded his character, that nothing can now prevent him from feeling and acting in a particular way, or at least that no effort of his own can hinder it. ... But this is a grand error. He has, to a certain extent, a power to alter his character. ... His character is formed by his circumstances (including among these his particular organization); but his own desire to mould it in a particular way, is one of those circumstances, and by no means one of the least influential. We cannot, indeed, directly will to be different from what we are. But neither did those who are supposed to have formed our characters, directly will that we should be what we are. Their will had no direct power except over their own actions. If they could place us under the influence of certain circumstances, we, in like manner, can place ourselves under the influence of other circumstances. We are exactly as capable of making our own character, if we will, as others are of making it for us’ (Book VI, Ch. II).

Mill’s recovery may have been helped by realization that his upbringing had not condemned him to be an apostle of Benthamite utilitarianism, irrespective of whether or not that was what he wanted to be.

In my last post I note that Mill castigated the English universities for acting as though the object of education was to inculcate the teacher’s own opinions in order to produce disciples rather than thinkers or inquirers. I wonder whether thoughts about his father’s inculcation of Benthamite utilitarianism in Mill’s own education would have passed through his mind when he wrote that.

One way or another Mill managed to form a strong view about the purpose of education. This passage from ‘Civilization’ is worth quoting more than once: ‘The very corner-stone of an education intended to form great minds, must be the recognition of the principle, that the object is to call forth the greatest possible quantity of intellectual power, and to inspire the intensest love of truth: and this without a particle of regard to the results to which the exercise of that power may lead, even though it should conduct the pupil to opinions diametrically opposite to those of his teachers’.

Are J S Mill's views about progress still relevant today?

John Stuart Mill assisted in the triumph of the idea of progress in the 19th Century but he also had concerns about the future that still seem relevant today. Richard Reeves comments: ‘Mill was not a knee-jerk critic of what Ruskin dismissed as the “steam whistle society”, but nor was he a blind advocate of industrialization for its own sake. As an avid botanist and walker, he was acutely sensitive to what would today be called environmental concerns’ (‘John Stuart Mill, Victorian Firebrand’: 233).


I will focus here on the views on progress and, in particular, concerns about public opinion that Mill put forward in ‘Civilisation’, published in 1836, when he was about 30 years old.

Mill identified three characteristics of civilisation:
• the development of commerce, manufactures and agriculture;
• people acting together for common purposes in large organisations; and
• peace being maintained within society through arrangements for protecting the person and property of members.
He suggests: ‘Wherever there has arisen sufficient knowledge of the arts of life, and sufficient security of property and person, to render the progressive increase of wealth and population possible, the community becomes and continues progressive in all the elements which we have just enumerated’.

Mill goes on to argue that the most remarkable consequence of advancing civilization is ‘that power passes more and more from individuals, and small knots of individuals, to masses: that the importance of the masses becomes constantly greater, that of individuals less’. He gives several reasons: economic growth results in the growth of a middle class and the dispersion of knowledge; the development of habits of cooperation and discipline in large organizations enable development of associations of different kinds, including benefit societies and trades unions; and improved communications through newspapers that enable people to learn that others feel as they feel.

Mill argued that political reform would follow inevitably: ‘The triumph of democracy, or, in other words, of the government of public opinion, does not depend upon the opinion of any individual or set of individuals that it ought to triumph, but upon the natural laws of the progress of wealth, upon the diffusion of reading, and the increase of the facilities of human intercourse’.

Mill’s concern about the growth in power of public opinion was that the individual would become lost in the crowd; although the individual depends more and more on opinion (reputation) he is apt to depend less and less upon the well-grounded opinions of those who know him. Mill suggested that with the growth in power of public opinion ‘arts for attracting public attention formed a necessary part of the qualifications even of the deserving’. His main concern was that ‘growing insignificance of the individual in the mass’ ... ‘corrupts the very foundation on the improvement of public opinion itself; it corrupts public teaching; it weakens the influence of the more cultivated few over the many’.

One for the remedies that Mill proposed was ‘national institutions of education, and forms of polity, calculated to invigorate the individual character. Mill then proceeded to castigate the English universities for acting as though the object of education was to inculcate the teacher’s own opinions in order to produce disciples rather than thinkers or inquirers. Mill wrote: ‘The very corner-stone of an education intended to form great minds, must be the recognition of the principle, that the object is to call forth the greatest possible quantity of intellectual power, and to inspire the intensest love of truth: and this without a particle of regard to the results to which the exercise of that power may lead, even though it should conduct the pupil to opinions diametrically opposite to those of his teachers’.

Massive changes have occurred in university education over the last 174 years, some of which correspond to Mill’s suggestions. Does this mean that Mill’s views on university education are now of only historical relevance? Do our universities now inspire the intensest love of truth? Are these standards of truth-seeking now reflected in the mass media and politics?

Unfortunately, there seem to be many people in universities these days who would regard Mill’s aim of inspiring the intensest love of truth as a philosophically suspect idea that is inconsistent with the modern purpose of universities in training technicians and inculcating them with politically correct views.

Does brain plasticity have implications for the idea of progress?

I have not long finished reading Norman Doidge’s book, ‘The Brain that Changes Itself’ (2007). Doidge is a research psychiatrist and has written a highly readable and informative book based on interviews of scientific pioneers and people who have benefited personally from the new science of neuroplasticity.


The main message that I get from the book is that the computer analogy of brain function – the contribution of nature corresponds to hardware and the contribution of nurture corresponds to software – is somewhat misleading. The machine metaphor of the brain as an organ with specialised parts cannot fully account for the capacity of the brain to perfect its circuits to make itself better suited to the task at hand. More information about the book is available here.

Norman Doidge has relegated his discussion of plasticity and the idea of progress to an appendix. This may be because he does not want his comments on this controversial subject to detract from the main themes of his book. Nevertheless, Doidge’s conclusions about the implications of neuroplasticity for progress are cautious. He writes: ‘while it is true that the history of Western political thought turns in large part upon the attitudes that various ages and thinkers have held toward the question of human plasticity broadly understood, the elucidation of human neuroplasticity in our time, if carefully thought through, shows that plasticity is far too subtle a phenomenon to unambiguously support a more constrained or unconstrained view of human nature, because in fact it contributes to both human rigidity and flexibility, depending upon how it is cultivated’ (p 318).

Doidge suggests that while neuroplasticity teaches that the brain is more malleable than some have thought, ‘calling it perfectible raises expectations to a dangerous level’. The history of Western political thought referred to by Doidge includes the contribution of Condorcet, the French philosopher and mathematician, who was a major participant in the French revolution. Condorcet argued that human history was the story of progress and that human nature was continually improvable in intellectual and moral terms. The idea that the imperfections of human nature are a consequence of social arrangements leads to the belief that revolutionary changes in social arrangements will lead to a transformation in human nature. When this doesn’t happen revolutionaries tend to resort to additional coercion to change human behaviour to fit in with the new social arrangements that they have created.

Steven Pinker has questioned whether the idea of a malleable human nature deserves ‘its reputation for optimism and uplift’. He suggests that if it did, B F Skinner would have been lauded as a great humanitarian when he argued that society should apply conditioning to humans in the pursuit of utopian ideals. Skinner’s critics pointed out that no-one doubts that behaviour can be controlled; putting a gun to someone’s head or threatening him with torture are time-honoured techniques. Pinker comments: “The issue is not whether we can change human behavior, but at what cost” (‘The Blank Slate’: 169).

It seems to me that the idea of a malleable human nature may have become associated with socialistic utopianism merely because of an accident of history. The views of John Locke, who originated the concept of the human mind as a ‘blank slate’ written on by experience, certainly cannot be described in those terms. Locke viewed liberty as freedom from the violation of natural rights (including rights to possessions as well as to life and health) and indispensable to the proper pursuit of happiness.

Norman Doidge suggests that Rousseau, one of the originators of the view that humans are perfectible, used the term perfectibility in an ironic sense. According to Doidge, Rousseau understood that if the human mental and emotional life are malleable there can be many different kinds of development and we cannot be certain what a normal or perfect mental development would look like. To my mind this view highlights the arrogance of Rousseau’s revolutionary followers in attempting to impose their peculiar views of utopia on other people.

What kind of society is most likely to promote the development of human brains in ways that will relax the constraints of human nature that limit our virtue and our wisdom? Is it a welfare state that aims to minimize the economic challenges that we have to face? Is it a rent-seeking society in which the extent to which individuals and groups prosper depend on their skills in playing a political game of obtaining preferment at the expense of others? Or is it a free society in which people prosper by engaging in mutually beneficial exchanges?

At one point in his book, Norman Doidge writes: ‘To keep the mind alive requires learning something truly new with intense focus’ (p 88). When I read that I was reminded of what Israel Kirzner has written about the benefits of freedom to society. Kirzner points out that losses from denial of freedom extend beyond those associated with preventing people from attaining known goals. He writes: ‘A free society is fertile and creative in the sense that its freedom generates alertness to possibilities that may be of use to society’ (“Perception, Opportunity and Profit”, 1979: 239). Perhaps we should be open to the possibility that the exercise of entrepreneurial alertness improves human nature.

Is the rule of law under challenge in Australia?

I expect that some readers will think that this is an absurd question. Australia has a well-deserved reputation for the quality of its legal institutions. Our ranking on the World Bank’s rule of law index is higher than that of the U.S. and U.K. So why ask the question?



First, I don’t think we can derive much comfort about rule of law from the World Bank’s rule of law index. It measures perceptions of the extent to which people have confidence in and abide by the rules of society, and in particular the quality of contract enforcement, property rights, the police and the courts, as well as the likelihood of crime and violence. As I have noted in an earlier post it is a broad measure of the quality of legal institutions rather than a measure relating specifically to rule of law.


Second, there is evidence that Australia has problems with rule of law. An example has recently come to notice close to home. In order to avoid violence in public parks, as occurred in Huskisson on Australia day last year, the Shoalhaven council has introduced bans on alcohol in certain specified parks on certain specified public holidays. I don’t have a view on whether these bans are the best way to prevent anti-social behaviour. The problem regarding rule of law arises because the police have been reported as saying that people wanting to drink responsibly as part of family gatherings can ignore the bans without risk of prosecution. It is comforting to know that the police do not like interfering with family gatherings, but it is difficult to feel comfortable with a situation where laws are to be enforced selectively. What has happened to the idea that the law should be enforced without fear or favour?


Robin Speed has referred to the similar example of an agreement by two doctors who operated independent practices in a country town and who agreed that one would work on Saturday and the other on Sunday. A Senate committee recognised that this was caught by the definition of a criminal cartel, but swept aside that concern on the grounds that the ACCC and DPP would not be expected to prosecute in such a case. As Speed says, “that is the antithesis of the rule of law”.


In his article in “The Australian” yesterday, ‘The rise and rise of the regulators’, Robin Speed argues that there has been a fundamental shift in the relationship between the individual and the law: “Increasingly, the relationship is not of the individual knowing and complying with what the law states, but of knowing and complying with what the regulators state the law states, and then knowing the extent to which the regulators will apply the law as stated by them”.


Even when parliament passes laws with the intention of restraining regulators, this does not necessarily prevent them from seeking to avoid those laws. For example, I have been reliably informed that in the 1970s the government’s most senior legal advisor provided a legal opinion that legislation that had recently been passed with the support of both of the major parties in parliament did not restrain regulators in the way that those framing and supporting the legislation had intended. The circumstances of this example are quite distinct from those where a court finds that the wording of legislation does not have the meaning that parliament intended. In the circumstances to which I am referring the opinion of the government’s legal advisor had the effect of denying the intention of parliament to restrict the regulatory activities of a particular arm of government. It elevated the intentions of regulators above those of the parliament.



How can the regulators be constrained? The obvious answer is legislation that gives regulators less discretion. In my view one area of high priority should be reform of the tax system to introduce greater certainty and reduce role of the tax office in deciding what tax law means. It will be interesting to see whether the Henry tax review has anything useful to say on this question.

Postscript:
Greg Cutbush, a farmer near Yass, has told me that he thinks the rule of law problem Mr Speed identifies is very common. For example, he’s noticed the ACCC applies one rule to farm products and another to household appliances. Any farmer who is found to have conspired with his neighbours to insist that the local grain merchant pay them the same price for their canola will be prosecuted under the Trade Practices Act because collective bargaining is prohibited. And yet when his brother and three of his neighbours get together and all buy new lawnmowers from an agent they have bullied in Bathurst one Saturday morning, nobody gives a stuff. It seems like the ACCC’s watchdog role is all window-dressing.

How painful is economic reform?

In my last post I presented evidence that people in countries with relatively high growth rates tend to perceive that their lives are improving. This is one of the reasons why I reject the view that economic growth makes people unhappy and that so called ‘unhappy growth’ can explain the reluctance of some governments to undertake economic reforms.



This raises questions about the effects of economic reforms on perceived changes in the quality of life. Do people in countries undergoing economic reforms tend to perceive that their lives were better prior to the reforms? My initial thought was that this would depend on the success of the reforms in raising economic growth rates.


I have now attempted to test this view empirically. In the analysis the perceived improvement in quality of life over the last five years is calculated as the difference between the rating of life today and life 5 years ago using data from the Gallup World Poll. Regression analysis has been used to explain variation in perceived improvement in life for 104 countries in terms of economic growth rate over the five years to 2007, improvement in governance over the same period (the average change in the 6 World Bank governance indicators), change in regulatory quality (the World Bank governance indicator most closely related to reforms that increase economic freedom) and a variable reflecting the extent to which assessments that people in different countries make of their lives tend to differ from the ratings that would be expected on the basis of income levels.


The regression explains about 40 per cent of the variation in perceived improvement in life among the 104 countries. The results show:
• Economic growth has a positive effect on perceived change in quality of life.
• Improvements in governance have a positive effect
• Improvement in regulatory quality have a negative effect on perceived change in quality of life.
(These results pass the standard statistical test relating to standard errors of estimates. Anyone who wants to see the results is welcome to contact me by email.)


It is important for the negative impact of change in regulatory quality to be seen in context. Economic reforms are generally undertaken in the hope that they will result in improvements in quality of life through higher economic growth. The chart below shows that countries which undertook regulatory reforms generally had relatively high economic growth rates. There was only one country undertaking regulatory reforms which had a negative economic growth rate.

The green diamonds in the chart denote the 10 countries in which people had the greatest perceived improvement in their quality of life. The red diamonds denote the countries with the greatest perceived decline in quality of life. The green diamonds are generally associated with higher economic growth rates than the red diamonds.


The evidence seems to support my intuitions – which are probably similar to the intuitions of most other economists interested in public policy - about the painfulness of economic reforms. Reforms often involve removal of regulatory barriers that protect the incomes of some groups at the expense of the broader community. The people who experience these income losses tend to resist reforms and to perceive that their lives were better before they were undertaken. When reforms are successful in promoting economic growth, however, these perceived losses tend to be outweighed by the benefits to those who gain from the reforms. Ad hoc attempts to promote reform of particular regulations are likely to be less successful than reform programs that are sufficiently broad and persistent to enable a high proportion of the population to perceive that their lives have improved.

Does 'unhappy growth' explain failure to adopt economic reforms?

Several researchers have noted that there is a tendency for average life satisfaction to be lower in the countries with high economic growth rates even though there is strong evidence that average life satisfaction is higher in countries with higher incomes. Carol Graham and Eduardo Lora have referred to this as the ‘paradox of unhappy growth’. In one recent paper Eduardo Lora (with Juan Camilo Chaparro) suggests that ‘unhappy growth’ may help to explain why some countries have been reluctant to adopt economic reforms that would lift economic growth rates (‘The conflictive relationship between satisfaction and income’, Nov. 2008).



This is an interesting view, but I doubt its validity. It seems to me that ‘unhappy growth’ could be a misnomer. Before explaining why I should try to summarise the authors’ explanations for ‘unhappy growth’. One explanation is in terms of an aspirational treadmill. Economic growth raises aspirations, so people experiencing high income growth may come to expect higher incomes and hence feel less satisfied with their current incomes than people experiencing low growth. The other explanation is that economic growth is often associated with structural changes that result in income losses to some groups as well as gains to others. As a result of loss aversion the average life satisfaction may decline while average income rises.



Both of these explanations seem plausible, but they leave us with a paradox. How can high incomes - which must have resulted from economic growth in the past - be associated with high average life satisfaction if economic growth reduces average life satisfaction?


There is a simple explanation that dissolves this paradox. The observation of lower average life satisfaction in the countries with higher growth rates might just reflect the shorter time that the people in the countries with higher growth have had to accumulate the capital necessary to enjoy the fruits of their current income levels. Consider two countries which currently have similar per capita incomes, one of which has experienced rapid growth over the last couple of decades and one which has experienced low growth. It would be reasonable to expect that per capita net wealth would be lower in the high-growth country than in the low-growth country because people in the former country have had less opportunity to accumulate wealth from their current incomes. People with lower per capita net wealth could be expected to have poorer standards of housing and to feel less financially secure, so it is only to be expected that they would feel less satisfied with their lives. (This is similar to the explanation offered by Angus Deaton, namely that life satisfaction responds to the long-term average income, as in a permanent income model of life satisfaction. See: ‘Income, health and well-being around the world’).




There is some evidence that average life satisfaction is strongly influenced by net wealth. A study by Bruce Headey and Mark Wooden has shown, using Australian data, that wealth is at least as important to subjective well-being as is income (IZA Discussion Paper 1032, Feb. 2004).


There is also some evidence of a similar phenomenon with respect to education levels. Regression analysis suggests that there is a tendency for average education levels to be lower in countries with high growth rates, after controlling for income levels. This can be explained in terms of the time taken for accumulation of human capital. It would make no sense to attempt to explain it in terms of economic growth resulting in less education.


Finally, there is evidence in the following chart that people tend to perceive that their quality of life has improved in countries that have experienced relatively high growth rates. The perceived improvement in quality of life over the last five years can be calculated as the difference between the rating of life today and life 5 years ago using data from the Gallup World Poll. The chart plots perceived improvement in quality of life against per capita GDP growth rate for the period 2002-07 (based on rgdpl data from Penn World Tables) for 103 countries. The pink dots in the chart lie on a line fitted by regression.

The evidence of perceived improvements in quality of life in countries experiencing high economic growth rates is not consistent with the idea that economic growth makes people unhappy. I don’t accept that the failure of governments to adopt economic reforms can be explained by ‘unhappy growth’.

Can communitarians and libertarians agree about the good society?

Since Michael Walzer is often identified as a leading communitarian thinker I did not expect to agree with his views about the good society. I thought it might be interesting to read his short article, ‘What is “The Good Society”? (Dissent, Winter 2009) just to see how much his views differed from my own (See, for example, ‘Is the good society a useful concept?). I was surprised to find that there wasn’t much difference.



Walzer begins his article by asking how there could be one good society, given the immense variety of human cultures. He then proceeds to talk himself around to the position that the good society ‘is constituted by the peaceful co-existence of all the societies that aim at goodness’.


Walzer argues that this view of the good society involves focusing our hopes for goodness on ‘more local, more particularized “societies” rather that a single society in which all members share a single goal. What he has in mind is the possibility that a single individual could take part in many different good societies (movements, associations and communities uniting for a common purpose) organized at different levels of social life and over different geographic areas (p78).


This reminds me of similar views expressed by Friedrich Hayek: ‘It would be a sad misunderstanding of the basic principles of a free society if it were to be concluded that, because they must deprive the small group of all coercive powers, they do not attach great value to the voluntary action of small groups. ... The true liberal must on the contrary desire as many as possible of those “particular societies within the state” ... Liberalism is not individualistic in the “everybody for himself sense”. A few paragraphs further on he wrote: “It is the great merit of the spontaneous order concerned only with means that it makes possible the existence of a large number of distinct and voluntary value communities serving such values as science, the arts, sports and the like. And it is a highly desirable development that in the modern world these groups tend to extend beyond national boundaries ...’ (LLL, vII: 151).


The communitarian libertarianism that Michael Walzer is advocating in this article makes a refreshing change from the vision of the good society favoured by social democrats and paternalistic conservatives who view governments as having the central role of defining and achieving ‘societal objectives’. Our chances of continuing progress toward good or better societies in coming decades will be enhanced if there is more widespread recognition of the importance of the spontaneous activities of numerous small groups comprised of individuals who share common goals.