Category: Books
Hayekian Literary Criticism
In economics, Marx is relegated to the history of thought as his ideas were an economic dead end and a political disaster. Yet Marx-influenced literary criticism is a dominant mode of analysis in nearly every English department in the country. It’s not that the English professors are all Marxists, it’s that even the non-Marxists reach for Marxian concepts–class, ideology, alienation, material conditions, commodification–when analyzing texts. These concepts may be useful for analyzing a Victorian novel of the landed classes but they have become a default economics for all of literature. That default is odd. Class analysis predates Marx and society can be divided into more than one set of classes; material conditions do not supersede all artistic agency; and capitalism contains figures—entrepreneurs, speculators, intermediaries, innovators, discoverers—who are great subjects for art yet fit poorly into the Marxist moral geometry. Not surprisingly, Marxism handles capitalism’s protagonists badly.
Is Marxian economics the only economic lens one can apply to literature? What would a Hayekian literary criticism look like? The place to start is the great Paul Cantor’s pioneering essay on Thomas Mann’s “Disorder and Early Sorrow,” a slight-seeming story set in Weimar Germany during the hyperinflation. Cantor shows that when one reads the novella through Hayek and Mises rather than Marx, the story opens up.
Start with inflationary psychology and its ramifications. Inflation shortens time horizons. When money loses value by the hour, saving is foolish and the rational move is to spend as fast as you earn—Mises’s “flight into real goods.” Prudence, discipline, and respect for the past become maladaptive. Speed, improvisation, risk-taking, and a certain youthful irresponsibility become survival traits.
Thus, Cantor/Mann tell us that inflation changes psychology and inverts the authority of age over youth. The old are set in their ways and often living on fixed incomes that inflation has wiped out; they cannot adapt. The young have known nothing but instability and go with the inflationary flow effortlessly. So the conservative virtues that once commanded respect are in decline while youthful recklessness starts to look like competence. Thus, Mann’s world has “gone mad in the worship of youth”: the children call their father by his first name, the teenagers are “the big folk,” and Professor Cornelius literally crouches down to his children’s height as the hierarchy collapses around him.
Money is a society’s primary measure of value, so Cantor/Mann argue that when you shake a people’s faith in their money, you shake their other faiths. Thus Cantor ties the conviction-less skepticism of Cornelius—and the broader Weimar nihilism and disequilibrium that helped feed the rise of Nazism—to monetary disequilibrium.
In short, inflation converts economic disorder into moral, social, psychological, and finally ontological disorder. Prices become unstable, then values, then identities, then reality. The modern feeling of absurdity and inauthenticity that critics reflexively pin on capitalism, Cantor/Mann argue is due to government-created inflation and paper money.
A Marxist could read the same story and find the inevitable contradictions of capitalism. Cantor reads it and finds the consequences of the state debasing the currency. Both are economic readings of literature. Only one of them has the economics correct.
Cantor is the place to begin but a Hayekian literary criticism could go much further. Atavism, the impossibility of social justice, products of human action but not of human design, spontaneous order, the fatal conceit, subjectivism, the sensory order–there is a lot of Hayekian ideas that literary interpretation could draw upon.
A Hayekian criticism would ask questions like how do characters acquire and process knowledge? Which institutions transmit information successfully, and which corrupt it? How do money, law, language, and custom function as social coordination mechanisms? Why do some attempts at rational redesign end in disaster? Read War and Peace as a critique of the great-man theory of history, Brazil and The Lives of Others as the fatal conceit degenerating into ignorance, fear, and absurdity. The Wire as a Hayekian epic of spontaneous order that demonstrates the illusion of social justice. Cantor’s essay on Mann shows the method, the broader project remains underdeveloped.
Hat tip: Hollis Robbins for discussion.
Addendum: Don’t forget my earlier WSJ piece, Capitalism: Hollywood’s Miscast Villain which gives an economic, one might even say Marxist, explanation for why film directors in particular disdain capitalists.
Rubber rationing in World War II
When during the meetings the Americans offered that at most they could convert 15 percent of U.S. auto plants to military production, Beaverbrook replies that 100 percent of British automobile factories had been converted, and encouraged Roosevelt to aim higher. He did, and on January 1 he ordered U.S. auto production halted by late Februrary. Within weeks the dearth of new cars became moot when rubber, 90 percent of which came from Malaya and Indonesia, was rationed. The U.S. had no synthetic rubber factories to make up the shortfall. Americans soon learned what Britons had long known: without a spare tire or three stashed in the garage, the family car had a very limited range. Passage by rail — where for fifty years the Pullmans had been Americans’ preferred means of conveyance — was soon limited to troops and businessmen on official war business. And then the airlines — their routes and the national fleet of 434 aircraft — were commandeered. By spring, gasoline ratioining, as a mean to preserve rubber more than oil, dribbed on to the Eastern Seaboard and in the following year spread nationwide, guaranteeing that Americans in the heartland could no longer take their vacations at east or west coast beaches even if their bald tires could carry them there. That proved okay with most because by summer, oil and bilge tar and decomposing bodies — the U-boats’ harvest — regularly washed up onto America’s eastern beaches.
That is all from the excellent The Last Lion: Winston Spencer Churchill: Defender of the Realm, 1940-1965. As I’ve said before, you can always keep on reading books about World War II and you will continue to learn interesting and important things.
*The Republic of Love*
The author is Martha C. Nussbaum, and the subtitle is Opera & Political Freedom. Martha decided she did not wish to do a podcast after all, so since I put some real prep time in I thought I would offer some thoughts on the book directly, in part because it is not receiving substantive reviews elsewhere. I suspect the number of people qualified to review the book, on the musical and philosophical and historical fronts, is pretty small.
Overall the book is very good, and if you think you might be interested you should buy and read it. It shows a significant knowledge of opera, in part from Nussbaum’s own efforts as performer and singer. Some of the operas considered at length include the major Mozart pieces, Verdi’s Don Carlo, Beethoven’s Fidelio, Benjamin Britten (Albert Herring, for one), and John Adams’s Nixon in China. For Nussbaum, “political freedom” is not exactly that of the classical liberal kind, but for at least eighty percent of the book those differences do not matter.
I do have some objections to her points. While each seems to be a smaller matter, I fear they reflect a larger reality where Nussbaum subordinates her understanding of the operas to her broader political and social agenda.
She is highly suspicious of Don Giovanni, considering it a “problem opera,” which for her I suppose it is. She cannot bring herself to admit that fair numbers of women might actually be attracted to the Don, instead suggesting it is their baleful economic plight that leads them into such liasions. That seems to me a grossly rigid misunderstanding of the work, at variance with centuries of high-level commentary on the piece. Kierkegaard’s understanding remains ahead of hers, as does that of the ordinary theatergoer.
More generally, she is highly suspicious of romanticism, and she works hard to resist the notion that romanticism was a natural and perhaps even inevitable outgrowth of the classical spirit in music. Not surprisingly, Tristan is anathema to her — “I think Tristan is a tedious opera and that the view of love in it — all unsatisfied longing and no reciprocity — is adolescent and boring.” I would agree that virtually all Wagner operas, except perhaps Das Rheingold, are too long and thus have an element of tedium. Yet that is hardly an accurate understanding of the libretto or the love connection (no reciprocity??).
One would do well to supplement Nussbaum with Wayne Koestenbaum’s The Queen’s Throat. GPT Pro had a good summary of some of Koestenbaum’s quite contrasting perspectives:
“The operatic voice exceeds ordinary speech: it is too loud, too stylized, too bodily, too artificial, too emotional. That excess makes it politically charged because it disrupts norms of restraint, masculine self-control, realism, and “proper” social identity. Opera gives form to things that respectable culture often requires people—especially queer people—to hide: longing, hysteria, theatricality, shame, glamour, grief, fantasy, and desire……it is a place where identity is unstable, theatrical, mediated, and excessive. Opera is full of secrecy, codes, hidden meanings, displaced passions, and voices that say indirectly what cannot be said directly.”
By no means are those entirely illiberal tendencies, but they complicate any identifications of opera with liberalism or indeed any other foundational political set of views. In some fundamental fashion, opera is usually going a bit askew from strictly classical principles.
I take Beethoven to be modestly less liberal than she does, as I am concerned with the repeated sense of “culmination” in his work, and the implied notion of total communal integration as the final good. It is not Beethoven’s fault that even the Nazis staged Fidelio, but it does point to the poliitically Romantic strand in his music, a strand that Nussbaum pushes off center stage.
Why so little Rossini in this book? (He gets a brief mention on pp.303-304). He is arguably the essence of opera, and the carrier of the Mozartean tradition, yet he also was a supporter of the French monarchy and its restoration. Even Verdi was a conservative and monarchist, which puts his Don Carlo in a slightly different light. I am reminded of Carl Schmitt’s critique of Romanticism, namely that it could transfer loyalties so readily from revolutionary republicanism to reactionary monarchism. 19th century opera is not altogether innocent of this charge, and a deeper look at the material would have confronted this issue. Mazzini wrote a whole book on opera and saw it as supportive of nationalism above all else. A look at the history of Auber’s La Muette de Portici, the performance of which spurred Belgian nationalism and a revolt in 1830, is consistent with this view.
Nussbaum is too concerned with her own classificatory impulses, and insufficiently aware of how much opera itself — most of all the music — keeps on diverting our attention in other directions.
Overall, this is a very thought-provoking book, full of deep knowledge of both opera and philosophy. If it is afraid to follow down the path of where the music itself — and most of its major purveyors — were leading us, that makes it thought-provoking all the more.
80,000 Hours: The Book
Forty hours a week, fifty weeks a year, forty years: a career is about 80,000 hours. Yet it’s striking how little serious thought goes into career decisions relative to, say, choosing a mortgage. Indeed, you are almost supposed to tell a story about how a random incident changed your life. One summer a circus came to town—and that’s the whole reason I became an economist! (True story!). Career advice, when it exists, often amounts to the platitude of “follow your passions!” Ugh. If you ask people what their passions are, music, arts and sports top the list but guess what? There aren’t enough jobs in those categories to go around.
Benjamin Todd’s newly updated book, 80,000 Hours is a unique examination of careers that runs the numbers in a serious way. The book is framed along Effective Altruism lines and it has some good public policy material. Pandemics, for example,
The world has plenty of religious cults, despots and would-be school shooters who might decide they want to take everyone else down with them…. The world [c]ould be one lab leak away from catastrophe.
Given what we know about the pace and accessibility of bioengineering tools, the chance that there will be a pandemic that kills over 100 million people during the next century seems high, plausibly similar or greater than the risk of large-scale nuclear war or climate change above six degrees. An engineered pandemic could also kill over 90% of the population,suggesting its overall scale is significantly larger.
But risks from pandemics are, even now, far more neglected than either of these. In comparison to $6bn–$10bn of philanthropic funding for climate change, and $1.6 trillion of total climate finance, pandemic prevention only receives $1bn of philanthropic funding, and total spending aimed at reducing the chance of worst-case pandemics is probably under $10bn.
See also my paper Pandemic Preparation Without Romance on what to do about it.
The opening chapters present the EA framing but most of the book has good advice even for the purely selfish–advice on building skills, networking and how to actually get a job. From what I have said so far, one might get the impression that the idea is to rationally choose your career at age 16 and then optimize your life around that plan. Not so! Todd rightly divides career paths into explore, build and deploy categories. Most people under-explore. It’s ok to jump around jobs and places, especially when you are young, so long as you are building skills and not just accumulating items for the CV. There’s evidence, for example, that scientists’ best work tends to follow periods of exploration with exploitation.
I also appreciate that Todd specifically warns about about armchair theorizing. Pro-and-con lists, for example, are ok but far less useful than getting out of the chair and actively exploring. Go talk with people, try something for a week, go somewhere. Look for cheap tests.
Start with what’s easiest. We often find people who want to, say, try out economics, who then apply for a master’s degree. That’s a huge investment of time. Instead, think about how you can learn This could mean first reading an economics textbook, or taking a single course.
You can think about creating a ‘ladder’ of tests. Start with the cheapest ways to test your options, then after each step, re-evaluate. A ladder might look like this:
a. Read our relevant career reviews, all our research on a given topic, and talk to LLMs about what the jobs are like (two to five hours).
b. Speak to someone in the area (two hours).
c. Speak to a friend to get an outside perspective on what’s best (two hours).
d. Speak to three more people who work in the area and read one or two books (twenty hours).
e. Given your findings, look for a relevant project that might take one to four weeks of work – like applying to jobs, volunteering in a related role, or doing a side project in the area – to see what it’s like and how you perform.
f. Only then consider taking on a two- to twenty-four month commitment – like a work placement, internship or graduate study. Being offered a trial position with an organization for a couple of months can be ideal because both you and the organization want to quickly assess your fit.
80000 Hours is The Random Walk Down Wall Street of career advice, the one book that really matters.
Explore, build rare and valuable skills, point them at a meaningful problem, and passion will follow rather than lead. And for those who don’t want to read a book, speak to an 80,000 Hours advisor. It’s a very cheap test.
My excellent Conversation with Toby Wilkinson
Here is the audio, video, and transcript. Most of all, we cover Ptolemaic Egypt. Here is part of the episode summary:
Tyler and Toby cover how Alexander took over the empire almost without a fight, why Alexandria became the Manhattan of the ancient world, whether the era was as philosophically fertile as it was scientifically, whether your ancient doctor’s visit had positive expected value, what Egypt was actually exporting and selling, whether living standards rose above subsistence or stayed Malthusian, how the ethnic divide between Greek rulers and Egyptian subjects shaped society, what constrained the Ptolemaic Empire from becoming the next Rome, whether Cleopatra has been overhyped, what Julius Caesar was really thinking when he sided with her over her brother, the new frontiers in archeology, whether Herodotus can be trusted, what ancient Egypt knew about Israel and India, when Egyptian jewelry peaked and why, what triggered the sudden emergence of civilization across the ancient world, why a six-year-old Tyler knew King Tut better than Napoleon, and much more.
Excerpt:
COWEN: Either technologically or institutionally, what is it that the Persians had that the Egyptians did not?
WILKINSON: The Persians had a pretty formidable army. Their military technology was certainly superior to the Egyptians at the time that they conquered Egypt originally in the 6th century BC. Like many empires, I suppose, throughout history, they overreached themselves. They overextended themselves, and they found it increasingly hard to hold together this empire stretching all the way from the Aegean to the borders of India. Bits of the empire started to fragment and pull away. Egypt had always had this very strong sense of its own identity. When it had a chance to throw off the Persian yoke, it took it.
COWEN: Let’s think about some of the achievements of Ptolemaic Egypt as an era. Infrastructure. What did they do that was most impressive?
WILKINSON: Build Alexandria. Alexandria the city was a new foundation established by Alexander the Great to bear his name. Unlike all previous ancient Egyptian cities, it was a city built from the outset for commerce. It was a city built on the Mediterranean coast with a great natural harbor, with facilities for loading and offloading ships. It had a great lighthouse guarding the entrance to its harbor, which became one of the wonders of the world. The whole city was really designed from the get-go as a great commercial center looking outwards to the Mediterranean, rather than inwards to the rest of Egypt.
COWEN: Canals, artificial lake. What else did they do?
WILKINSON: They built a city quite unlike anything previously seen in the valley of the river Nile. In fact, any inhabitant today of a modern city would recognize the grid iron pattern of streets. Streets intersecting at right angles, that was something completely unheard of until this point in Egypt with vast public buildings. This was the Manhattan of the ancient world, if you like, in scale, in grandeur, and in the level of commercial activity.
And:
EN: What were the main exports of the Alexandria region? What are they selling, making?
WILKINSON: Oh, the two big exports that account for the lion’s share of Egypt’s wealth at the time are gold and grain. Gold has been mined in Egypt for millennia up to this point, but it’s still the place in the ancient world that produces large quantities of gold. Of course, gold has always been a great currency of international commerce.
Then Egypt is famed as the breadbasket of the ancient world. It produces a superabundance of grain thanks to the fertility of the Nile and the benign climate. It produces more than it needed for its own consumption, by comparison with poorer agricultural regions in Greece and Asia Minor, which struggled to produce enough food. Yes, gold and grain were the absolute engine of Egyptian prosperity.
COWEN: There’s metalwork, there’s glass. What else is there, manufacturing, as we would call it today?
WILKINSON: Oh, yes. There’s a big ceramics industry, so producing not just pots, but terracotta statues and votive objects. There’s glassmaking, as you’ve said. There’s advanced metallurgy, goldsmithing, ironworking, copper and bronze foundries. There’s what we might call the decorative arts, so sculpture, painting. All of these things thrived in ancient Alexandria.
COWEN: Do they have living standards sustainably above subsistence, or is this a Malthusian equilibrium, where they get some wealth and then more people survive and the wage falls again, and it doesn’t get much above what is required to keep people alive?
Recommended, informative and interesting throughout. And I am very happy to recommend all of Toby’s books, including his latest
What should I ask Richard Hanania?
Yes, I will be doing a Conversation with him. Richard does have a new book coming out, Kakistocracy: Why Populism Ends in Disaster. While I liked the book (and blurbed it), I do not feel our conversation about the book would be that interesting — too much beating up on the stupidities of other people, which is an activity not in short supply. So we agreed to (mostly) discuss Joseph Conrad’s Nostromo instead. Given that, what should I ask Richard?
*How to Win a Trade War: An Optimistic Guide to an Anxious Global Economy*
That is the new Soumaya Keynes book, out today. I was happy to have blurbed this book, and here is an essay, on export restrictions, based on the book.
A Beautiful Theory Falls to Ugly Data
My latest paper, A Test of the Coase Conjecture Using Prices of Electronic Books, with the excellent Tim Groseclose, has just been published. The Coase Conjecture is another one of Coase’s little ideas — the original paper is six pages — that has spawned hundreds of follow-up papers and thousands of citations.
The idea is simple. A monopolist of a durable good has a time-inconsistency problem. Set the monopoly price in period 1 and he will be tempted in period 2 to cut the price and mop up the customers whose valuations sit between the period-1 price and MC. But the same logic applies in period 2, and again in period 3, and so on — eventually the price unravels to MC. Consumers see this coming, the monopolist knows the consumers see it coming, and so the monopolist cuts price to MC in period 1. And since a “period” is just the interval between price changes, the whole unraveling happens — in Coase’s phrase — “in the twinkling of an eye.”
The theorists, most notably Gul, Sonnenschein and Wilson and Fudenberg, Levine and Tirole, formalized Coase’s insight and showed that under quite general conditions the logic goes through. Which is rather surprising, since, as Tim and I point out, Coase’s conjecture implies that many patents and copyrights are essentially worthless — a prediction wildly at variance with the facts. Other theorists, including Stokey, Ausubel and Deneckere, and Board and Pycia, have offered variants under which the Coase outcome does and does not obtain.
For all this theory, there have been almost no direct tests of the Coase Conjecture apart from a handful of lab experiments. Ours is one of the first papers to take the conjecture to the real world. We look at e-books, an unusually clean setting: digital goods are durable, marginal costs are low, resale is limited, and prices can be changed quickly. Using the prices of e-books that are in the public domain as a proxy for marginal cost, we ask: (a) do prices rapidly fall to MC, and (b) does the market clear in the first period? The answer to both is no. E-book prices begin well above MC, sales continue over many periods, and prices don’t even decline monotonically.
We reject the Coase Conjecture decisively.
The paper has an interesting history. The theorists (or the referees we guessed were theorists) praised the paper for taking the theory seriously but inevitably had a fillip to offer, distinguishing the world of pure theory from empirical tests. The empiricists, on the other hand, said our tests were too simple since no one takes the theory that seriously. It’s good to see the paper find a home!
We reject the Coase Conjecture decisively, but it remains to say why. We can rule out some explanations — it’s not rising MC, and it’s not the finiteness of buyers (which can support a perfectly price-discriminating Pac-Man equilibrium).
Two theories remain: 1) sellers can commit not to lower prices, and 2) the outside-options model of Board and Pycia. I prefer the former, my co-author prefers the latter. To me, commitment just isn’t that hard. The standard story is that profits are like cookies on the table and the monopolist can’t resist — but at least the people tempted by cookies get to eat the cookies! The Coase profits are illusory: the monopolist races to MC in period 1 precisely because they know they won’t resist later and as a result they don’t even get a taste of profit! Too clever by half. I say, show some backbone. Firms are *all about* commitment — to workers, consumers, contractors. Why not to a price? My co-author points out, however, that this is more Tabarrok-vibe than carefully laid out theory.
Tim likes the Board and Pycia model which begins with the plausible idea that consumers have outside options — if they don’t buy the book today, they will buy another book, rent the movie, or borrow from the library — and crucially, once they take the outside option, the consumer never returns to the market. You might think outside options would make it *harder* for the firm to set a high price, but Board and Pycia show in a very clever but extended argument that when you carefully work out the full equilibrium the opposite holds: outside options give firms a time-consistent incentive to set and keep a high price. Tim explains the argument further here (see also our paper for an intuitive breakdown).
In any case, the Coase Conjecture — at least as modelled by the theorists — fails in an environment most conducive to it.
A beautiful theory falls to ugly data.
What I’ve been reading
1. Paul Mendes-Flohr, Martin Buber: A Life of Faith and Dissent. A beautifully written, first-rate intellectual biography of Buber. It is hard to imagine finding a better book on him.
2. Robert C. Austin and Artan R. Hoxha, Enver Hoxha: Twentieth-Century Tyrant. How did this strange story end up happening? This book offers the best set of explanations I have seen. But Hoxha himself remains a psychological cipher at the end of it all? It turns out he never thought Mao was much of an ideologue, being too influenced by Chinese culture and thought. Also I had not previously realize how much Albania’s growing youth population — with the most natalist demographics in Europe at the time — was considered a major threat to the regime.
3. Malachi Haim Hacohen, Karl Popper: The Formative Years 1902-1945. Such an excellent and high-level work. And the author is not afraid to accuse Popper of making everything about himself, and also writing on topics (Plato, Hegel, Marx) where he was less than well-informed. I had not known that Popper hated Toulmin’s Wittgenstein’s Vienna book, feeling that the actual Viennese environment at the time was far more positive and forward-looking than most intellectual historians were inclined to grant. Nor had I known how cut off Popper was during his New Zealand years, as there were no plane connections, New Zealand news did not cover foreign affairs very much, and the mail was painfully slow. Popper also wanted to turn the Mont Pelerin Society into a coalition group, including socialists. That did not happen.
4. Frank Callanan, James Joyce: A Political Life. An excellent, lengthy study, I now see Joyce as intensely political whereas I did not before. “His fiercely Parnellian critique of Ireland and Irish nationalism is only politically intelligible as written from within Irish nationalism. It is an argument addressed to Irish nationalists. The paradox of Joyce’s nationalism is that it is in his critique of nationalism that his nationalism is most evident.” As Italo Svevo once stated: “Joyce is twice a rebel, against England and against Ireland.”
5. Suzy Hansen, From Life Itself: Turkey, Istanbul, and a Neighborhood in the Age of Erdoğan. An insightful look into Erdoğan, Turkish Islamism, parts of Istanbul, and most of all how Turkey slid into autocracy. One of the best case studies I know of on how a fragile democracy can go away.
All of these books are very good. I’ve been seeing complaining in the press lately, and on social media, about the paucity of book reviews these days. Well, no one is stopping you from reviewing books! Just do it.
The carousel trade (arbitrage)
Imagine two companies which are secretly controlled by the same people. If company A imported some phones, then sold them to company B, it charged VAT on the deal. If company B then exported the phones, it reclaimed — from the government — the VAT it had paid to company A. the integrity of the VAT system depends on the two totals balancing out. The money that A pays in is equl to the money that B takes back. The scam lay in A disappearing and not handing over the money it owed, but B till claiming it. The hidden owners of the two firms therefore earned for themselves 17.5 per cent (the rate at which VAT was then charged) of the value of the shipment of the phones. The more phones you sold to yourself, the more money you made.
That is John Lanchester in the LRB, citing Oliver Bullough’s Everybody Loves Our Dollars: How Money Laundering Won.
Robert Wright’s *The God Test*
The subtitle is Artificial Intelligence and Our Coming Cosmic Reckoning, due out June 23.
In the first chapter, Wright summarizes four of his perspectives, these are my paraphrases of his pp.5-6:
1. When it comes to AI, we should be somewhere on the awe spectrum.
2. We can create a future where the upside of AI far outweights the downside, though that involves steering human understanding toward the better side of the awe spectrum.
3. A major reorientation of human thought is required, and right now few people seem inclined to do that.
4. The worldviews of the current AI acclerationists and also doomers are not cosmic enough.
It is a good time for this book to be published, and I agree with much more of it than I disagree with. My main difference is that I am more focused on very small things — such as Rainier cherries and the forthcoming three to four hour Apichatpong movie — than on cosmic awe per se. For better or worse, I was not born with those genes, and unlike Wright I am far from Buddhism. I do think there will be a transformation of “observed awe,” and I am somewhat worried that it will not go well. Will we be good at building a fairly new world, if not from scratch, on the basis of some new premises about what is possible and what is not? I will in any case interpret the pending transformation through a Straussian lens, namely thinking that a lot of the observed transformation of awe will be about something other than what people are claiming. It will be about people arguing over relative status, but under different guises. Not as tasty as a good Rainier cherry, but interesting to follow as well.
But are we still good at steering and evolving grand visions? Christianity and the Enlightenment are a hard act to follow.
What should I ask Chase Koch?
Yes I will be doing a Conversation with him. Chase and Charles Koch have a new book out, namely
*In the Realm of the Last Man*
As Mark Lilla, a recovering Straussian, once remarked, they [the Straussians] were like craftsmen building a house brick by brick on a foundation that Leo Strauss had laid. But they would never become architects of that house, or decide that the house was too small for them to comfortably live in. Moreoever, Strauss disparaged social science and what he considered naive forms of positivism prevalent in American universities. This led some of his followers to disdain merely empirical accounts of current events. If you are more of a Hegelian, you need to pay attention to actual history if you are to give an account of how ideas play out in the real world.
That is from Frank Fukuyama’s forthcoming memoir, recommended of course.
Repugnant Economics
I spoke on a panel at AEI with Nobelist Al Roth about his new book, Moral Economics, which covers “repugnant markets,” from prostitution to surrogacy to kidney exchange. A fun book!
My case study was acting. Acting was considered repugnant for over 2,000 years. In Rome, actors could not vote, hold office, or be trusted to give an oath in legal proceedings. So why don’t we find acting repugnant today?
One lesson: weighing costs and benefits is not enough. Roth discusses empirical research showing that legalizing prostitution cut STDs and sexual assaults—against prostitutes and others. But evidence alone won’t shift a repugnance norm. You also have to reframe the activity. Acting, for example was reframed from body rental to a skill requiring intelligence, training and ability. So I went out of my way to say that I am a fan of Aella—though not her only fan—and that I see no reason why escorting should not be considered a skill, requiring intelligence, training, and ability. I can think of few better ways of raising social welfare than making sex 10% better!
I also spoke on human challenge trials. Roth and I agree: challenge trials could have sped up COVID vaccines and saved tens of thousands of lives. We should be angry this didn’t happen. Why didn’t it? Even though most people think human challenge trials are a good idea, there was a repugnance bottleneck because the minority who did find human challenge trials repugnant were in charge. I discuss how to change this.
Al leads the discussion. My comments start at 25:15.
What I’ve been reading
1. Mikhail Fishman, The Successor: Boris Nemtsov, Vladimir Putin, and the Decline of Modern Russia. One of the best books to read on how Russia moved from “had some democratic elements in place” to autocracy, on a step-by-step basis. The story is told using the career of Boris Nemtsov, who was assassinated in 2014, as a lens. The author has biases of his own, but they do not detract from what is valuable here.
2. Siri Hustvedt. Ghost Stories: A Memoir. About her history with her now-deceased husband Paul Auster, and how she dealt with his death. Moving and insightful, recommended.
3. Thomas Mann, Doctor Faustus, a new translation by Ritchie Robertson. An imperfect, problematic work, too caught up with its own Germanness, and lacking dramatic tension. Still, an important work and this new translation is much better than the old one.
Elsewhere, here is Beeple on AI and Monet, for the terminally online only.