Category: Philosophy

Rereading Tim Harford’s chapter three, this question runs through my mind.  Numerous studies correlate divorce with subpar outcomes for the children, though Justin Wolfers once told me he was not convinced these studies had proved a causal relationship.  Perhaps divorce-prone families have other dysfunctionalities which correlate with the kids having later problems in life and that the divorce is not causing those problems.

My wondering is more fundamental.  Does a marginal (expected) increase in divorce increase or decrease the number of children who end up being born?  On one hand the prospect of divorce may cause some people to limit the number of children they have.  On the other hand, there is a surplus of women on the marriage market.  Divorce, followed by male remarriage or at least siring, tends to increase the total number of children.  I suspect this latter effect predominates.  If divorce is unexpected, this latter effect almost certainly predominates.

If divorce causes more children to be brought into the world, it is hard for me to believe that divorce is bad for "the children" overall.  It’s better to be born, at least for most kids.  You might argue that "children existing now" have a special moral privilege over "children in the abstract."  Sometimes, yes (we don’t value human life at replacement cost), but if we are asking "will divorce be good for children thirty years from now" currently they are all "children in the abstract."

I believe this defense of divorce is consistent with Tim’s overall take.  Of course a person who fears overpopulation might see this as additional reason to oppose divorce or make it more costly.

Here is the opening of the piece, in the latest Mint:

Sometimes my life feels like a series of never-ending frustrations. The
last three products I bought at Best Buy–a large electronics store–had
to be returned because they simply didn’t work. The DVD from Amazon has
a fatal skip. My wife’s new Mac computer doesn’t function on our
wireless network. I dread any call to customer service. A wait is
followed by a transfer, which is followed by two more transfers, which
is in turn followed by a promise to call me back. The return call never
comes. My billing dispute on my AT&T credit card dragged on since
May, mostly because they simply didn’t find it worth their while to
respond to my letters.

But there’s a happy ending, sort of:

If you need consolation, I have two suggestions.

First, count your blessings and read some Buddhist or Stoic philosophy. Second, take your revenge in the form of lower prices.

In
the short run, one supplier can rip you off pretty easily. In the long
run, it is harder for the world as a whole to avoid giving you a pretty
good deal.

Steven Landsburg writes:

Even if you’ve just lost your job, there’s something fundamentally churlish about blaming the very phenomenon that’s elevated you above the subsistence level since the day you were born. If the world owes you compensation for enduring the downside of trade, what do you owe the world for enjoying the upside?

Progressive taxation, some would say in response!

Tim Harford, however, nails it:

…people lose their jobs all the time for reasons that have nothing to do
with foreign trade. I’d argue that they deserve some help. Why are jobs
lost to foreign competition so privileged?

I am most interested in Dani Rodrik on the same, most of all when writes:

The question of how we should respond to a trade-induced
change in income distribution is not one on which economists can offer
any expertise.  This is a question about ethics, values, and norms,
none of which is part of an economist’s training.  Landsburg’s take on
this is as good as mine–which is as good as that of any person on the
street.

Every now and then I feel a deep responsibility to rebut an argument.  In my view anyone doing policy economics has an obligation to learn more about ethics — much more — than the guy in the street would know.  Would someone doing experimental economics feel free of the obligation to learn some empirical psychology?  Would someone doing trade feel free of the obligation to learn some trade law, some history, and some political science?  No.  What’s the difference?  Economists like to separate the "positive" and "normative" aspects of what they do, but this distinction has not much impressed the moral philosophers who have looked at it nor has it impressed Amartya Sen.  The very decision to use economic tools emphasizes some considerations and excludes others.  The final policy analysis is not just pure prediction but rather it is also an implicit presentation and weighting of both different kinds of information and different values.  So if you are doing policy economics, it is imperative that you think about ethics at a very deep level, and read widely in ethics.  You are doing ethics whether you like it or not!  Furthermore I don’t doubt that Dani already has a deeper understanding of ethics than the (often very crude) man in the street.

That said, I don’t agree with the ethics Dani does discuss, noting that he must have felt he had some good reason to put forward the concerns he did and not others.  (As a rule of thumb I’ll note that those who profess the impassability of ethical terrain have just in fact traversed it.)  I don’t worry much about the procedural fairness if a poor country trades at better prices by paying its labor less or by polluting.  Low wages are precisely the wages we want to see bid up, and if there is a concern for the losers I would not call the issue a procedural one but rather one of outcomes.  And pollution can be a moral crime but attacking trade is not usually a good way to go after it.  Tax the pollution, not the trade.

Andrew Olmsted, a blogger who posted at Obsidian Wings as G’Kar, was killed yesterday in Iraq.  He gave one of his co-bloggers a final post in the event of his death.  It’s very painful to read and also funny and sad.  Here is one of the few sections that I can bear to post.

Believe it or not, one of the things I will miss most is not being able to blog
any longer. The ability to put my thoughts on (virtual) paper and put them where
people can read and respond to them has been marvelous, even if most people who
have read my writings haven’t agreed with them. If there is any hope for the
long term success of democracy, it will be if people agree to listen to and try
to understand their political opponents rather than simply seeking to crush
them.

T.: I love you.

N.: Which number is that?

And I believe he doesn’t like what he sees:

Who wouldn’t want to see Tyler Cowen publicly debate Robin Hanson?
Well, aside from the masses? I think they’d both be willing, if they
could only pinpoint a good topic. A while back they had an extended
blog dialogue (see here, here, and here); can you extract a resolution from it?

Personally, the bottom line of Tyler’s latest post
reminds me of a debate topic that someone suggested after a recent
seminar: "Few major changes in the policies of modern democracies are
desirable." Depending on when you ask him, Tyler might deny that he
believes this, but in his heart, he does. And no matter when you ask
Robin, he’ll be ready to argue the contrary.

Other topic suggestions?  If Tyler and Robin wind up using your novel suggestion, lunch is on me.

Here is the link.

No, this question applies not at the beginning of the relationship, but after a few years or more.  Sure, you love the person but this is economics and we think at the margin.  Why did you say "I love you" right now rather than two minutes ago?  I can think of a few reasons:

1. Anxiousness and a desire to reassure oneself in the face of self-doubt.

2. Irritation at the other person, leading to #1.

3. Desire to manipulate the other person by first making him or her feel compliant and secure.

4. Being overcome by suddenly stronger feelings of love, perhaps because of a Proustian reminder.

5. The simple feeling that too long has passed since having said "I love you," presumably combined with the belief that the words are uttered rarely enough to still have potency.  You need to signal you are keeping track of such things.

6. The sex was either very good or very bad, see #1 and #4.

7. One has work or chores to do, and is hoping to create a distraction of some kind.

8. To announce that a conversation is over.

Natasha asks whether in a marriage one hears "I love you" more or fewer times than is optimal.  We both think "fewer" is usually the answer, although given the low cost of generating the message, and the possibility of reaping gains from trade, it is not entirely clear why this equilibrium persists.

A group of Swiss businessmen will hear first Pascal Lamy on economic globalization and then me on cultural globalization.  I must keep in mind the fundamental principles of speaking to the Swiss.  Unlike virtually all American audiences, the listeners do not expect to be entertained.  Efforts to entertain will insult some of them.  I need not reach my main point until the end of the talk.  Taxonomy for its own sake is not detested, but PowerPoint is viewed with suspicion.

Ethnic food here is improving rapidly, but a simple daal with bread and rice can cost $20; the lovely scenery isn’t the only reason immigrants wish to get in. 

Why I write.

That’s the new book by Cass Sunstein, and yes it works through how choice theory should approach disasters and irreversible events.  It is the most accessible presentation of this material to date and it is recommended to anyone who follows issues of global warming, pandemics, asteroid impacts, and the like. 

The concluding chapter opens with the old quotation:

"If you make a plan, God laughs.  If you make two plans, God smiles."

When it comes to this book, the worst case scenario is that you are out $24.95, you despair at mankind’s ability to actually address these problems, and you come away enlightened.  I would have wished for more material on public choice issues — how good a job can governments do with these problems? — but the more salient point is just how much Sunstein does cover.

This fascinating article raises the question of whether charity is worthwhile and how charity — "imposing" the desires of the rich on social priorities and wealth redistribution — fits a theory of social justice.  In particular, why should the charity of the wealthy receive such significant tax breaks or even be seen as morally legitimate?  Henry Farrell adds much more.

I am a fan of the tax break for American philanthropy for several reasons:

1. Organized religion is the biggest beneficiary.  Religious organizations help poor people, help shape a unique and vital American ethos, and encourage people to have more children.  The demographic effects alone probably makes this self-financing. ($40 billion in foregone revenue is one estimate.)

2. The arts receive about five percent of U.S. charitable donations.  I am more than willing to stomach this degree of anti-egalitarianism in the non-profit subsidy, and yes we do get more beauty for it.  Furthermore the alternative of more direct government arts funding would not work out well in the relatively Puritan United States, even if you think it has worked well in Europe.

3. Philanthropy for higher education is a major reason for American strength.  Note that American higher education a) benefits the entire world, and b) is a major reason why we are richer than Western Europe (wasn’t there a recent NBER paper on measuring this effect?)  The tax break is a politically acceptable way to subsidize elite intellectual activities — which benefit virtually everyone — yet without having government control those activities.

4. Allowing and encouraging people to give away their money causes them to work harder.  Demonstration effects spread the power of this subsidy by creating social networks which favor philanthropy.

5. The general proliferation of non-profit institutions makes America a much more innovative and diverse place, intellectually and otherwise.

6. Relying so much on private philanthropy chips away at the dangerous attitude that there are clearly defined social priorities to which everyone must pay the same heed.

But do read the NYT article and Henry’s post for very different perspectives.

I thank a loyal MR reader for the NYT pointer.

First, your model of the individual is very likely based on you.

You’ll find lots of contrarianism (for libertarians, that is, and note we should always be polite to contrarians) here and here.  I also enjoyed this bit:

This is the other thing I don’t get about small government types. You
protest so vociferously that government takes choices away from you.
But a whole lot of choices are BORING. If I never once think about car
bumper safety standards for 25mph crashes, I will never miss it. I do
not want to carefully match my car safety standards to my most likely
driving patterns and save two grand in the process. I would not enjoy
that process. (Perhaps you would, and you would rather have the money.)
I’ve never been a comparison shopper or a meticulous consumer. Maybe my
model of the individual is too biased by my experience. But I don’t
want to figure out how much coliform bacteria I can tolerate on my
spinach, given my health…

…*I can hear you already: "But you are FORCING me to take that deal
too.". Yes. But right now our system FORCES me to comparison shop.
Either way, someone gets FORCED to do something, and I don’t see a
justice interest on one side or the other. Absent a justice interest,
we might as well just go with the system that creates the most utility
overall.