Kent Pitman's Open Salon Blog

Corny Economics

Tue, 29 May 2012 09:05:13 -0400

Sometimes we get so mired in the thick of things that we lose track of where we began and what we were about. I think economics is a lot like that. We’re all affected by it. We all have opinions. And yet we’re told it’s a vast topic about which we can have no opinion. It’s too big and complicated for us to understand if we haven’t studied it. I’m not sure I agree.

I want to begin by speaking in very blurry terms to reset the conversation. I think many of us have a problem of not being able to see the forest for the trees. So I want to zoom out to where the detailed view no longer holds us captive. Let’s talk in very broad brush strokes for now.

OK, so having zoomed our view of the Earth out to a resolution befitting an astronaut, let’s click the “Economic View” icon in the upper right corner, and see what the world looks like. I’ll interpret for you, since you may not be familiar with this view and I don’t have a handy screen image.

From this view, I see only two things: People and corn. That’s all there is in the world.

“Corn?” I hear someone in the audience asking “Why corn?”

I’ve chosen corn to metaphorically represent what we need to survive.

“What about beef? We’re not all vegetarians,” some of you are asking.

For the purposes of our conversation today, beef is a kind of corn. We’re too high up to care about the kind of detail that would distinguish beef from corn.

“Health care? Housing?”

It’s all just corn. From here, corn is enough. From here, corn represents everything we need to live.

“We must be awfully high up to think that. But it’s OK. At this altitude, I think the thinning corn is making me light-headed and it’s starting to make sense.”

Great. Now back to economics.

The first and most obvious observation is that there is either enough corn in the world, or there is not. If there is not, we have a serious problem. That would mean we are beyond the carrying capacity of the Earth.

“So that’s your model of the world? That all people do is make corn?”

Thanks for reminding me. Of course that’s silly. They also make harmonicas. Did I forget to mention that? People, corn, and harmonicas.

“I don’t know anyone that owns a harmonica.”

Well, I do. But it doesn’t matter. Harmonicas, iPods—same thing. From our vantage here, anything we make that we don’t need looks to me like a harmonica.

“Why harmonicas?”

They’re a way to pass the time between growing and eating corn. I divide life into essentials and leisure. After all, it takes only a fraction of the population to grow the corn we need. The rest of us just make—or use—harmonicas.

“Sounds like some of us are more necessary than others.”

Now you’re seeing my point. At the highest level, the problems are simpler. We don’t need everyone to grow corn because a few people can make enough for everyone. We’re an affluent species. We could just grow the corn and distribute it out and there’d be plenty for everyone.

“That would mean some wouldn’t have to work.”

Right. And that would drive some others crazy from an equity standpoint.

“So how do we solve that?”

We ask them to make harmonicas.

“But that won’t feed anyone.”

No one needed to be fed. There was already enough. Making harmonicas doesn’t make us more able to feed people, it just soothes our primitive emotions, making it seem that people aren’t getting something for nothing. If they make harmonicas, we tell them they’re entitled to food. No harmonica, no food.

“That seems a bit harsh. And does the world really need that many harmonicas?”

Well, that’s what got me thinking. I have a friend who knows someone named Joe who’s living on welfare. She thinks Joe should get a job. I started to wonder if that was really true.

I imagined Joe getting a job making drink umbrellas.

“Drink umbrellas?”

They’re a kind of harmonica. But don’t interrupt.

Mind you, as with all harmonicas, the world doesn’t really need drink umbrellas. They offer very little value, they mostly just go straight into the trash, and they add to landfill. Plus Joe will burn corn getting to and from work so that he can make this product that adds to the landfill. And someone will have to drive the product to market so that someone else can drive to the store and buy it. All of these activities threaten the corn supply. On net, I’d say, they make us poorer.

Or it might be no one even wants drink umbrellas. We might need additional people to work at a marketing firm in order to figure out how to get people to buy them anyway. Those people would have to expend fuel driving to and from work. They need heat or air conditioning while at the office. They need an internet connection. Expense is layered upon expense just to get society to create and tolerate things we don’t need. And why? Because without all this expense, we wouldn’t feel good giving Joe some corn for free.

I’m not sure any of that makes good sense. None of it will make us more able to feed Joe. It will only make us more willing to feed him.

We don’t end up caring whether the job Joe takes burns more resources to earn the corn than he would burn if we just gave him the corn. In fact, we don’t account carefully for the resources used by our society at all. We take it on faith that resources are being used well because we imagine that when everyone makes purchases that each individually make sense, the entire system will somehow, magically also make sense. But what if that’s wrong? What if there is no such emergent effect? What if being down and dirty in the details obscures our chance to create any global coherence?

We created money so we could keep track of traded value, but somehow things have gone awry. I’m not advocating an end of money, but I am advocating a hard look at the assumptions we make about its effect and about the goodness of the things it buys. I’d like an end to the blind trust in money, as it were.

There may indeed be things we could be doing in our society to make the world better, but merely looking at where there’s money to be made might not answer that. We have erected a consumer-driven society in which we incentivize the making of things. But I suspect we will not have a sustainable society until we start to incentivize the “not making” of things we don’t need.

Maybe there are other ways people can provide value, maybe not. But if there can be such gigantic questions of what’s the right thing to do in the world, can we at least agree to feed everyone in the meantime while we sort it out? And by feed, I really mean feed, clothe, house, and take care of them. I think we’d be able to do it. I think so because I think we could do it if people would just make more harmonicas.

If we’re prepared to do something important if only our people do some utterly irrelevant act, I think we’re prepared to do it regardless. Why not dispense with all the corny excuses and finally just do it.

If you got value from this post, please "rate" it.

Accelerated Memorials

Sun, 27 May 2012 10:05:38 -0400

When people die, we have very nice ceremonies to remember them. Often we end up saying things posthumously to or about them that we never managed to say to them while they were alive.

Why do we wait?

Memorial services are more for the living than the dead. They give the grieving something to do. They give the living a reson to believe that when their time comes, someone will probably have a nice ceremony for them. But they don’t do the one thing we might wish for: Let the people we care about actually know that we do.

I wrote a technical article once, on an unrelated topic, in which I referred to a concept I called “accelerated hindsight.” The notion is that if hindsight is always 20/20, and if it’s easy to see forward into time to the point where we can see backward clearly, then why not just simplify matters and admit those things we know will eventually be crystal clear in hindsight? So if we care enough about people to memorialize them after they die, why not do it beforehand—while they’re still around to enjoy the praise and feel appreciated?

To be clear, I’m not suggesting we look for friends or family who seem like they’re about to keel over and inflict some sort of going away party on them. Maybe for some that would be better than nothing, but for some that might add unwanted stress, like others have given up on them and maybe they’re sending a “hurry up and die already” message.

No, I really mean something earlier than that.

Some might say that’s what birthdays are for—a chance to mark the passing of time by getting together with people to celebrate. But birthdays are already heavily ritualized in ways that might conflict. Birthdays are about presents. Maybe they shouldn’t be. Maybe we should refocus birthdays on something less materialistic. But they are what they are, and so I’m not specifically suggesting commandeering that holiday.

Birthdays also come way too often. Not just my birthday, which itself comes way too often these days, but yours, and hers, and his. It’s an endless parade of birthdays any more, something Facebook users are probably acutely aware of. Pretty much every day is someone’s birthday. That takes away some specialness.

Besides, I’m talking about honoring a person’s life achievements, not just what they did last week or last month. But maybe not a whole lifetime; life sometimes seems divided into chapters. Or perhaps one sometimes has the good fortune to live more than one life in a lifetime; I’ve felt that way. Either way, I’m thinking it requires more than a year of knowing, observing, and relating to a person to put their life into perspective.

A retirement party? Well, not all of us have the luxury of retiring, so let’s not require some specific event to happen. Holding our appreciation of others hostage to events serves no one. There isn’t always an event that precipitates the need. The event is the person’s life.

I might settle for something around age 40 or 50, maybe at intervals, where we just got together to take stock and note the passing of time. Something timed to not necessarily be the end of one’s life, though we really never know who will be around longer and who won’t.

I have even, on occasion, thought it might be nice to bequeath a few possessions at such a ceremony. I can be quite a packrat.† I save stuff I wonder if I’ll ever use, but I have no occasion to give it away. Perhaps a “live memorial” event could be such an opportunity. In regard to that ritual, more like a reverse birthday party—a chance to give away things rather than receive them. But really, why wait until you’re gone to pass things along? And by “you,” I mean me. It’s something I’ve been thinking about doing myself. Ridding myself of certain baggage of the past might give me a way of punctuating one of those life chapters, clearing room—both literal and figurative—for a new one to begin.

In a world where money and power are increasingly siphoned off by and for the benefit of a self-congratulatory economic elite, there are ever more people who aren’t succeeding economically. The fact that the game isn’t “zero-sum” doesn’t mean some aren’t getting their due. Our societal processes of incentives and rewards need some heavy-duty reforming, but in the meantime there are many whose contributions to the world are as worthy as they are unrecognized. There are people who will be remembered when they’re gone, but would it be so terrible to remember them while they’re still here? Some of them might not even realize anyone cares.

Memorial Day has drifted from its original meaning, and seems lately—at least in the circles I run in—to be less a day of remembrance and more just the unofficial beginning of summer. It’s just a day to get together with friends and barbecue. And I’m not even saying that’s bad. After all, some of those we value are likely to be present. Nor is the world ill-served by attention to a simple pleasures like conversation and cooking. But it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to add to the celebration a bit of thoughtful appreciation for all of those who’ve affected our lives, even those still among us. That would seem a start anyway.

I don’t have a highly specific suggestion to end on. This is all just me thinking aloud. Maybe all that will happen is that I’ll call or email a few friends and tell them how much they’ve meant to me. Maybe you’ll do likewise. In some cases a public celebration may be deserved, but a private thank you may be all that’s practical.

If you’ve got any other suggestions, feel free to share them.

If you got value from this post, please "rate" it.

†Fellow pack rats may enjoy my free-form quasi-poem The URLs of the Mind.

Language Defines Our Lives

Sat, 19 May 2012 18:05:26 -0400

This is a repost of an article originally published in March at another site that has since gone away. —Kent Pitman

Language is a complex beast. A single word, or a sequence of words taken together as a phrase or sentence, may mean one thing now and quite another thing later, or may mean one thing to you and still another to me.

It’s is a messy thing up close, barely withstanding scrutiny at times. It’s amazing that we not only use but rely upon such a clumsy contrivance.

And yet language is all that stands between any of us and profound loneliness. Sometimes it drives us. Sometimes we drive it. Yet it’s all we have to connect us with each other, to remember our past, and to discuss our possible futures.

I say a thing and it means something to me. You may hear it differently than I said it. Your words are not my words. I describe a piece of music as “pretty” or “sad” or “touching” and that sets an expectation for you, but you later hear it and say “wait, it’s not that at all.” I haven’t lied to you. We each come to know words according to our experiences and needs, and the result can be quite different.

Of course, we can rush to the dictionary for arbitration, but the dictionary can’t be said to know. A dictionary isn’t a source of truth, just a statistical record of commonly observed usages. It doesn’t drive language. Language drives the dictionary.

It’s a folk art, not a fine art. It is messy, irregular, and practical, bending in all kinds of places that no one would ever design. It is organic.

I may put a thought into words, and you may surprise me by hearing an intepretation I never intended. You may even prefer to hold me to that interpretation. Language can ensnare us. Sometimes it reveals hidden truths. Sometimes it just makes a mess of simple thoughts for reasons no more profound than its unsophisticated form. To borrow the parlance of Star Trek out context, language is itself “stone knives and bearskins.”

Language supports ambiguity. Ambiguity itself is ambiguous, so let me be clear about the three kinds of ambiguity I know of: I may use ambiguity to talk about something I don’t fully understand, speaking in blurry terms about things I know only in a blurry way. Or I may understand things quite precisely but not want to reveal what I do and do not understand, so I might choose to speak in ways that hide my knowledge. Or I may be speaking plainly and precisely about something in the world that is itself ambiguous.

We are admonished not to let others put words into our mouths, but really the greater threat is not to let others put meaning into our words. Words are windows into our intent, but when ambiguity arises, the benefit of reasonable doubt must go to the one uttering the words, not the one hearing them.

This creates a special burden in politics. A politician is elected who has promised to do well for our country. What does that mean? Surely the same promise, made by a different person, might imply something different. We cannot simply rush to the dictionary and expect to find from the meaning of the words what the politician will do.

Two woman become pregnant. One has struggled for a long time to get to this point, wishing more than anything for children, but now she has a miscarriage. The other never had any intent to have children and gets an abortion. Two fetuses, neither to ever be born. Must that imply my emotions for each are the same? May I be happy for one and sad for the other? May I say one has lost a child while not the other?

It’s again a question of language. If one fetus is a child, must the other be? I say no. Language is messier than that. You may think a chicken egg is just a chicken, but if your server in a restaurant brings you fried eggs instead of fried chicken, you’ll quickly reconsider and insist it was your intent that should dominate, not someone’s self-serving desire to construe your words differently than you intended.

Then when does life begin? When does an egg, or a fetus, become a person? I think the magic occurs when a pregnant woman freely chooses it. I think life must be chosen. Forcing a woman to carry a pregnancy against her will is nothing less than slavery. I don’t always hear it articulated this way, but I think this is what it is to be pro-choice. The decision to bear a child ought to be a personal choice, not a fate forced by governments, dictionaries, or bullies.

So I take my cue from the woman’s choice. It seems reasonable and appropriate to celebrate from the moment a woman excitedly announces she has chosen to be pregnant, and to mourn if she loses that child. But it seems equally reasonable not to mourn if a woman elects an abortion because she doesn’t want kids—or doesn’t want them yet. Perhaps the choice is painful for her, perhaps not—I look to her for guidance. Even good decisions can be difficult ones. It’s her life, and her right to decide whether and when she will have a child. I celebrate and support that freedom to choose.

This use of language may seem messy, but it’s not hypocritical. It’s just the nature of language. Some situations are just complicated—like the earlier matter of the fried chicken versus the fried eggs. Does wanting fried chicken make you somehow a hypocrite? I think not. The situation is what it is, and language bends to accommodate.

Evangelical conservatives like to claim the right to define words like “moral” and “values” and “life,” as if these words had clear definitions that were theirs to determine in a “one size fits all” way. We must resist that. Language is not the property of any individual or group, nor is there any particular meaning of a word that will be universally applicable in all circumstances.

Language must not be dumbed down into a rigid tool of oppression, but instead must remain flexible so that we are empowered to express ourselves, each in our own way. Through language, we don’t just define life, but we define our lives. We don’t just talk about how to conceive a child, but how to conceive the world.

If you got value from this post, please "rate" it.

Help Restore Honor to the Boy Scouts

Thu, 26 Apr 2012 20:04:08 -0400

I signed Jennifer Tyrrell’s petition to tell the Boy Scouts of America to end its policy of discriminating against gay youth and leaders.

You should sign, too.

It had a place for personal comments. This is what I wrote. Feel free to borrow from any part of it if you think it will help you express yourself:

I simply don’t understand the BSA’s homophobia but it must stop. Scout leaders don’t have any reason to bring sex into Scouting activities at all, so why does it matter if they’re leaving heterosexual or homosexual thoughts at home? Scouting should be about teaching basic survival skills, duty, honor, compassion, and respect. These are not the private province of those with a particular gender preference. And it’s hard to see how you teach respect by disrespecting the dignity of a whole class of people. Finally, as to teaching religion, religions vary a lot and an increasing number accept gays, so the BSA has no business telling anyone what the right or wrong religion is.

If you got value from this post, please "rate" it.

And don’t forget to visit and sign the petition.

Our National Health

Tue, 27 Mar 2012 12:03:38 -0400

I guess the Obama administration has decided that rather than fight the moniker “Obamacare” they might as well embrace it. A smart move, I think. Calling it the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act is long and clumsy, and its acronym PPACA is really no better.

And anyway, they could do worse than to be associated with caring. Is the opposition volunteering to oppose caring? Well, let them. It doesn't sound like a winning position to me. It also doesn't sound very compassionate. There's been nary a whisper by or about George Bush this primary season, as no Right-thinking Republican wants to be associated with him and his policies, so I guess they're running against compassion as well.

Speaking of compassion, the Supreme Court will today consider an unusual death penalty case. No, not for rape or murder. Those on trial today are just American citizens whose only crime is to be covered by Obamacare. Yet they may be penalized by losing critical coverage if the Supreme Court decides that's how we as a nation spell justice these days. And some of those penalized by any such Court action will die.

And why? Well, I hear it's about freedom. Somehow our freedom is enhanced if we're free to be at the mercy of individual insurance plans. Hey, if this works out, I've got an idea: Rather than debate whether lethal injection is humane or not, why don't we give convicted murderers a choice of how they'll be killed. Then when they complain they don't like it, we'll say: Hey, you chose it freely.

Funny (in a kind of sad way) that the GOP spends so much of its energy arguing that we have to “spare the lives of the unborn,” often babbling about how it's necessary compassion due to their religion, or how we might lose the next Einstein. But apparently they're pretty comfortable with little Albert, once born, losing his care. The government shouldn't be in the business of raising or educating Einsteins, just seeing they get born. I guess that's why they don't want birth control. If some of these up-and-coming Einsteins are going to plan poorly and die early, before they can crank out some useful formulas for us, we're going to need spares.

Oddly, it's the “mandate” that's being challenged. What's weird and ironic about that is that what many wanted was single-payer, universal care paid for out of taxes. There would be no Constitutional challenge to that. Taxes have clear Constitutional basis. What the Republicans don't like is the mandate, but the mandate is part of a market solution proposed by Republicans as an alternative to the Constitutionally-sound universal health care approach.

Not that the GOP would be happy with it even if it were seen as Constitutional. How offensive that people can be forced to buy something they don't want. We can be taxed, legally and Constitutionally, even to the point of nearly bankrupting the nation, to support wars we don't want. They're OK with that. But Heaven forbid we should be asked to pay for something that might save lives. That would be immoral.

And so, for reasons that seem utterly procedural, lives hang in the balance in this real life episode of Chopped. Whose insurance policies will be spared, and whose must be chopped? I guess we'll have to stay tuned.

But don't worry, if it turns out things go badly and some of us lose our health care, the others won't be forced to watch the aftermath on some sort of societal jumbotron ultrasound. Such in-your-face information is only good for individual abortions. If we end up instead casting out a large swath of society with the Constitutional bathwater, forcing the Court or the People to see the consequences of that action is not really something we'd ever want to mandate.

If you got value from this post, please "rate" it.