Opinion

Chrystia Freeland

The Triumph of the Social Animal

Chrystia Freeland
Apr 24, 2012 15:37 UTC

BERLIN — Does fairness matter? As France prepares to elect a president this spring and the United States gets ready to elect a president in the autumn, that old philosopher’s chestnut is gaining tremendous real-time political relevance.

Economics, by contrast, hasn’t traditionally been much concerned with fairness. Instead, economists have based their analysis on “Homo economicus,” a model human being who is perfectly rational and perfectly guided by self-interest.

The financial crisis of 2008 made it hard to believe in a world of perfectly rational actors, even when they earn million-dollar salaries and have advanced degrees. Now, a growing body of research is challenging the second part of the definition of Homo economicus — that he is guided purely by self-interest.

The alternate view was advanced by Armin Falk, a Bonn University economist, at a recent economics conference in Berlin organized by the Institute for New Economic Thinking. It emphasizes the importance of fairness and trust to human behavior. This approach takes as its starting point the idea that we are social animals, driven powerfully by how we fit into our community.

The social animal school may sound touchy-feely, but one of its favorite research tools is the M.R.I. That is the machine Dr. Falk and his colleagues used to try to figure out whether we care most about the absolute material reward we get for our work — as a rational Homo economicus should — or whether fairness matters, too.

In one experiment, subjects were paid 50 percent more, the same amount or 50 percent less than a peer for doing the same amount of work. Crucially, the absolute payment the research subject received in each case was identical.

But brain scans showed that fairness had a strong impact at a neurological level. Anyone who has ever held a job or has a sibling won’t be surprised to learn that the most powerful response was evoked when the research subject was underpaid, compared with his identically tasked peer. Interestingly, when researchers simulated low social status in their testers, unfair treatment mattered less. The meek may inherit the earth, but in the meantime they have been conditioned to accept less than their fair share.

In another experiment, Dr. Falk and Ernst Fehr, of the University of Zurich, investigated an issue that should be of great interest to the world’s human resources departments: Does our perception of fairness influence how hard we work? Their answer is yes — workers who are underpaid don’t work as hard.

The two professors’ conclusion was based on the responses of experimental subjects. In his Berlin talk, Dr. Falk also cited an American real-world example that points to the same conclusion. A bitter fight between workers and management at Bridgestone/Firestone’s plant in Decatur, Illinois, in the mid-1990s, including a long strike and the hiring of scabs, coincided with the production of poorer-quality tires.

“Looking before and after the strike and across plants, we find that labor strife at the Decatur plant closely coincided with lower product quality,” a paper on the subject by Alan B. Krueger, a Princeton economist who is now the head of the U.S. president’s Council of Economic Advisers, and Alexandre Mas, also of Princeton, reports. “Monthly data suggest that defects were particularly high around the time concessions were demanded and when large numbers of replacement workers and returning strikers worked side by side.”

Workers who feel they are being treated badly aren’t just unproductive; they can be downright dangerous.

An obvious response to this finding if you are in the H.R. department, particularly if your colleagues in finance are giving you a hard time, is to find ways to control your employees more strictly.

But another study by Dr. Falk, with Michael Kosfeld of Goethe University Frankfurt, suggests that keeping workers on a tight rein can be counterproductive. When our bosses closely monitor our work and restrict our opportunities to slack off, we feel we are not trusted. The counterintuitive result is that the more strictly we are controlled, the less hard we work. Another triumph for the social animal over Homo economicus.

Some of Dr. Falk’s most recent work takes the question of fairness back into the medical laboratory. He and a team of colleagues asked what the physical impact of unfair pay was, this time as measured by our heart rate rather than brain waves. Experimental subjects who felt they were being unfairly paid showed higher heart rate variability, an indicator of stress that has been shown to predict heart disease.

Faulty tires and failing hearts are the grim consequences of unfairness suggested by Dr. Falk’s talk. But the new vision he and like-minded researchers are developing of how human beings operate in the economy is actually rather uplifting. We aren’t driven solely by self-interest; fairness and decency matter, too. Kindness and justice turn out to be useful concepts not just at the pulpit or among philosophers, but also as essential tools in the workplace.

Many employers already know this intuitively. Smart ones will start to apply these findings more explicitly, too.

The next step is to adopt these discoveries about the social animal to our thinking about the broader political economy. In one way or another, this year’s pivotal elections will all be about the economy, stupid. But a sophisticated understanding of how the economy really works means thinking not just about gross domestic product, but about fairness and autonomy, too.

The rise of lousy and lovely jobs

Chrystia Freeland
Apr 12, 2012 21:56 UTC

More bad news for the middle class: When the economy recovers, jobs in the middle won’t. That is the conclusion of an important new study that connects a long-term trend in the labor market with the business cycle of recession and rebound.

Nir Jaimovich, an economist at Duke University, and Henry E. Siu, an economist at the University of British Columbia, take as their starting point one of the most important continuing changes in Western developed societies. That shift is what economists, most notably David Autor of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, have called the ‘‘polarization’’ of the job market. Maarten Goos and Alan Manning, extending the research to Britain, have more colorfully dubbed it the dual rise of ‘‘lousy and lovely’’ jobs.

Their point is that, thanks to technology, more and more ‘‘routine’’ tasks can be done by machines. The most familiar example is the increasing automation of manufacturing. But machines can now do ‘‘routine’’ white-collar jobs, too — things like the work that used to be performed by travel agents and much of the legal ‘‘discovery’’ that was done by relatively well-paid associates with expensive law degrees.

The jobs that are left are the ‘‘lovely’’ ones, at the top of the income distribution – white-collar jobs that cannot be done by machines, like designing computer software or structuring complex financial transactions. A lot of ‘‘lousy’’ jobs are not affected by the technology revolution, either – nonroutine, manual tasks like collecting the garbage or peeling and chopping onions in a restaurant kitchen.

An extensive body of economic research has shown that job polarization is happening throughout the Western developed world. It accounts for many of the social and political strains we have experienced over the past three decades, particularly the increasing divide between the people at the top and at the bottom of the economic heap, and the disappearance of those in the middle who were once both the compass and the backbone of our societies.

What’s new about Jaimovich and Siu’s work is that they have found that job polarization isn’t a slow, evolutionary process. Instead, it happens in short, sharp bursts. The middle-class frog isn’t being gradually boiled; it is being periodically grilled at a very high heat. Those spurts of change are economic downturns: Jaimovich and Siu have found that in the United States since the mid-1980s, 92 percent of job loss in middle-skill occupations has happened within 12 months of a recession.

‘‘We think of recessions as temporary, but they lead to these permanent changes,’’ Siu told me. ‘‘The big puzzle about business cycles is: Why have we had these jobless recoveries over the past three recessions? These jobless recoveries are because you have these middle-skilled jobs that are being wiped off the table.’’

Economists are often in the business of collecting empirical evidence of the trends many of us civilians have long experienced in our daily lives. That turned out to be the case when Siu shared his research findings with his family.

‘‘I told my father-in-law, who used to be an executive in the oil industry,’’ Siu said. ‘‘He said: ‘That is exactly what happened. Every vice-president had a secretary, then they fired them during the recession. But after the recession we had to pair up, and two vice-presidents had to share one secretary.’’’

Another example may have been hinted at in the March U.S. jobs report. Those figures showed a decline of 34,000 jobs in the retail sector despite recent improvements in store sales. Some economists attributed that apparent mismatch to the power of technology, in this case e-commerce.

‘‘That is certainly in line with our findings,’’ Siu said. ‘‘Salespeople are one of the prime examples of routine jobs.’’

The Jaimovich-Siu paper concludes that ‘‘jobless recoveries are evident in only the three most recent recessions, and they are due entirely to jobless recoveries in routine occupations. In this group, employment never recovers beyond its trough level, nor does it come anywhere close to its pre-recession peak.’’

This is, Siu told me, ‘‘a stark finding.’’ David E. Altig, the research director at the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta, who has written a blog post about the paper, echoed that view. ‘‘One of the things you certainly note is that this is the mother of all jobless recoveries,’’ he told me.

Siu urged me not to be too gloomy. ‘‘In the broad sweep of history, technology is good,’’ he reminded me. ‘‘We’ve been wrestling with this for 200 years. Remember the Luddites.’’

That is an important point. All of us, even the hollowed-out middle class, would be much worse off if the Luddites had won the day and the Industrial Revolution, whose latest wave is the past three and a half decades of technological change, had never taken hold.

But it is also true that every seismic shift, including the current one, has winners and losers. And for the losers, adapting to today’s world of lousy and lovely jobs may be even harder than it was for the artisans of the Luddite era to thrive in the Machine Age.

‘‘What might be different today is two factors,’’ Siu told me. ‘‘The pace of technological change is so much faster, and we live in such a complex society, that it is harder than ever to switch to a new occupation.’’

All of us are awaiting an economic recovery. We should be braced for one that offers scant comfort to the middle class.

Statecraft via Twitter

Chrystia Freeland
Apr 5, 2012 21:36 UTC

It turns out you can govern in 140 characters. Social media is often accused of coarsening our public discourse and of making us stupid. But some innovative public leaders are taking to their keyboards and finding that the payoff is a direct and personal connection with their communities.

To understand how statecraft by Twitter works, I spoke to three avid practitioners, who are spread around the globe and work at different levels of government: Carl Bildt, the foreign minister of Sweden; Michael McFaul, the U.S. ambassador to Russia; and Naheed Nenshi, the mayor of Calgary, Alberta.

Bildt is a veteran blogger, but he was dubious about Web 2.0, as the social-media revolution is sometimes called. “I was rather skeptical on Twitter,” he told me. “I thought, ‘What can you say in 140 characters?’”

But Bildt, who has more than 116,000 followers , soon found Twitter to be “very useful” and also “fun.”

“As a matter of fact, you can say something in 140 characters,” he said. “The restriction isn’t as absolute as I had thought.”

One way Bildt uses Twitter is promote his bigger-think pieces. “A lot of the tweets are links,” he said. “If I write an op-ed, then I can tweet it.”

Bildt combines his Twitter posts with a blog. Twitter is for links and instant comments; the blog is for longer, more considered arguments. Bildt tweets in English and blogs in Swedish.

One of Bildt’s followers is McFaul, the U.S. ambassador to Russia. He likes the way Bildt mixes life and work, one moment tweeting about Syria and the next gently complaining about the long line for takeoff at the Istanbul airport.

“The thing I feel most nervous about is blending the personal and the professional,” McFaul said. “That’s new to me. I’m learning where the lines are.”

For instance, McFaul, who is originally from Bozeman, Montana, posted a picture of himself and his wife dancing to country music played by a Montana band in Spaso House, the ambassador’s residence in Moscow.

“I never would have done that three years ago,” McFaul said. “And yet the guys say any time there is something personal or something with a photo or video it gets much more pickup or retweets than a statement on Syria.”

“The guys” to whom McFaul refers are the U.S. State Department’s social-media team, led by Alec Ross, who is the senior adviser on innovation for Hillary Rodham Clinton, the secretary of state. Ross spearheads the State Department’s enthusiastic social-media campaign. As McFaul posted earlier this week, quoting Mrs. Clinton: “Our ambassadors are blogging and tweeting, and every embassy has a social-media presence.” (Indeed, Ross’s influence is global – Bildt said that the American briefed the Swedish diplomatic corps at its annual meeting last summer.)

Like Bildt, McFaul has a multilingual, multiplatform social-media strategy. McFaul is a Twitter newbie. (In just over two months, he has about 850 posts and more than 22,700 followers.) He blogs when he has a more complicated point to make and uses Facebook when he wants to converse with a community. He tries to write mostly in Russian, but occasionally uses the Latin alphabet if his Cyrillic keyboard isn’t handy, and will post in English if he wants to communicate with his followers outside Russia.

Bildt has found that by integrating social media into his normal routines – he writes blog posts in the car or on the plane and “has it in the back of my mind all the time” – “it is not so time-consuming.”

For McFaul, who is writing chiefly in a foreign language, social media amounts to a second shift: “I have my day job as a conventional ambassador, and then starting at 10 p.m. until I get tired I interact on social media.”

McFaul’s moonlighting role as social-media ambassador has particular relevance in Russia, where the government controls much of the traditional media, especially television, and civil society has moved to the Internet in response. As a result, McFaul says, social media is more than a tool for communication – it is also a well positioned window into the national debate.

McFaul’s social-media outreach has not protected him from controversy. Indeed, Russian leaders, including President-elect Vladimir V. Putin, have been suspicious from the outset of McFaul, who is a longtime student and occasional advocate of democratization. Just this week, Foreign Minister Sergey V. Lavrov accused McFaul of arrogance for remarks made to a Russian news agency about missile defense.

But his social-media presence has given McFaul the tools to reach beyond the sometimes hostile national media and speak to any Russians who care to listen.

Naheed Nenshi, the mayor of Calgary, couldn’t operate in a more different environment. He is an elected leader in a Western democracy. But he, too, has found that social media gives him the power to get his message across directly, without relying on mainstream media platforms.

Nenshi has a salty style – he once said on Twitter that a critic should “look into pharmaceuticals” for his “limpness” issue – that has earned him more than 53,000 Twitter followers, including foreign fans who say if they lived in Calgary they would vote for Nenshi.

In a city of just over 1 million, that gives the mayor a loud and independent megaphone.

“The really interesting piece about all of this is the way it disintermediates the traditional media,” Nenshi said. “I’m well on my way to having more Twitter followers than one of the Calgary newspapers has readers. It puts my interactions with the media in a new light.”

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