Behavioural Econ – Core Economics

Ethical failures: Where they come from and how to address them

A review of

Gentilin, Dennis. The Origins of Ethical Failures. Lessons for Leaders. A Gower Book. Routledge (2016). ISBN: 978-1-138-69051-6

Ethical failures were in the press big-time in 2017. Prominently, creeps like Harvey Weinstein, James Toback, Bill Cosby, Larry Nassar, etc. were accused of sexual transgressions of various sorts (and in some cases admitted them to varying degrees). The sheer number of accusations leaves little doubt that, in their substance, they are correct. One thing that was truly shocking, on top of the specifics of many of the allegations, was that some of these transgressions went on for literally decades, that many people seem to have known about them for years (if not decades), and that the perpetrators did get away with them for an unconscionably long time. It is clear that organizational failures must have played a major role. This was implicitly acknowledged in the name of The Royal Commision (RC) into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, established under the Gillard government in 2013 and which reported all 17 volumes of its findings on December 15, 2017. The RC also laid out recommendations.

It did not really come as a surprise that once again massive organizational failure, in particular of the Catholic Church, was identified as a major finding. It did not come as a surprise because for years there had been a never-ending stream of trials, not just in Australia, suggesting just that, and providing plenty of evidence that the Catholic Church – in its (continued) belief that it is a law and world unto itself — had engaged for decades in what might generously be called economy with the truth.

Two weeks earlier, after another year of numerous reports of questionable practices, and record profits of the four major banks, the Turnbull government saw itself forced — by its own backbenchers, no less — to announce that it would establish a RC into misconduct in the banking industry. It was a step that Labor and the Greens had urged for more than a year. (The recent draft report of the Productivity Commission has made clear that some such RC is indeed overdue.) The Turnbull government’s acceptance of something that it could not prevent, and its subsequent attempts to undermine the effectiveness of the RC by simultaneously widening its scope and imposing an essentially unrealistic timeline, demonstrates, at the minimum, the kind of myopic opportunism that Australian politics seems drenched in.

Having graduated in 2001, Gentilin became a member of the FX trading desk of the National Australian Bank (NAB), one of the four major banks. In 2004 that trading desk became involved in a trading scandal that rocked NAB and led, within a couple of weeks, to the resignation of both its chairman and CEO, the reconfiguration of the board of directors, and significant financial and reputational losses. Gentilin was the young trader who blew the whistle. Contrary to many other whistleblowers (who are typically harrassed out of the organizations on which they blew the whistle), he stayed with NAB for more than a decade – as head of the institutional sales team and a member of the corporate strategy team — before he resigned in January 2016 to found Human Systems Advisory, a name meant to be programmatic. The foreword of his book was written by the current chairman of NAB who states: “There are no simple answers in this book. But there are answers. And there are important truths, supported by deep and rigorous analysis. These should be of interest to all corporate leaders, in both executive and non-executive roles.” (p. xvi). One such truth, says the chairman – apparently quoting Gentilin – is that “leaders must strive to articulate a meaningful social purpose for their organizations that is underpinned by a virtuous set of values.” That’s quite a mouthful, and the impending Royal Commission on the banking system suggests strongly that the major banks (that tried at first to fight off the RC until they realized that fight had been lost) have continuing trouble to understand that particular message, as does the recent draft of the related Productivity Commission report.

Below, I am interested in both the depth and rigor of the analysis and the truths that Gentilin establishes. I am also interested in the implementability of the measures that he proposes.

In his Introduction, Gentilin states that he draws his evidence from “behavioural business ethics” which he defines as the intersection of business ethics and psychology (p. 5). While he is credited on his website with a degree in psychology, Gentilin makes clear that he wrote this book as a “practitioner” rather than “an academic, a philosopher or an ethicist” (p. 4). He does so in four chapters that explore “The Power of Context”, “Group Dynamics”, “Our Flawed Humanity”, and “What We Fail to See”. A conclusion follows.

Gentilin relies heavily on summaries of articles from psychology that explore human nature and the circumstances under which nice behaviour might turn into, well, not so nice behaviour of different shades. While there is brief perfunctionary nod (p. 3) to the replicability crisis that has afflicted psychology, throughout the book there is little discussion of relevant laboratory design and implementation issues such as incentivisation, experimenter expectancy effects, external validity, and so on (Hertwig & Ortmann 2001; Ortmann 2005). Never mind the fact that much of the evidence on unethical behaviour paraded in this book has been produced with deceptive practices, arguably an unethical practice itself (Ortmann & Hertwig 2002; Hertwig & Ortmann 2008). There is no discussion of statistical issues such (lack of) power computations, p-hacking, publication biases, and what not here either.

Claiming that “explanations of unethical conduct rarely give proper consideration to the system within which people operate … (and) tend to focus on identifying ‘bad apples’ or ‘rogues’” (p. 7), in Chapter 1, Gentilin explores how the environment can impact human (mis)behaviour and, on balance, concludes that “the ‘barrel’ within which the ‘bad apples’ operate must be given as much (if not more) attention as the ‘bad apples’ themselves.” (p. 8). Before he reviews the lessons to be learned from the Stanford Prison Experiment, Gentilin reviews literature on social norms and how they affect behaviour. The well-known Cialdini et al. littering and Mazar et al. (dis)honesty studies are paraded, as is an interesting lab study by MacNeil & Sherif (1976) in which the authors demonstrate generational transfer of (questionable) practices, and a related field study by Pierce & Snyder (2008). Distinguishing between descriptive (“derived from what is”) and injunctive (“derived from what ought to be”) norms, Gentilin documents cases where unethical descriptive norms tear to smithereens injunctive ones. He relates this to his reading of what led to the FX trading scandal at the NAB: “young people in particular are vulnerable and endorsing immoral social norms … In the FX trading scandal that engulfed the NAB, immoral social norms emerged that promoted excessive risk taking and misstating the true value of the currency options portfolio.” (pp. 18 – 19). This is hardly surprising, and indeed Gentilin mentions the LIBOR rate-fixing scandal and the professional cycling drug-taking as other high-visibility events. He could have also mentioned the lending practices of major US banks before the housing and mortgage crises (e.g., Gjerstad & Smith 2014), the despicable transgressions at Abu Ghraib, or zillions of other real-world examples. After having reviewed the Stanford Prison experiment in some detail, Gentilin identifies two important take-home lessons from it: first, a specific context “can cause people of sound character to behave in totally uncharacteristic and inappropriate ways.” (p. 24) and, second, the emergence of such contexts is possible only when leaders allow it. Drawing on more experimental evidence (such as Bandura’s children imitating adults’ behaviour experiments), he suggests the obvious parallel for what happened at NAB: “Just as the adults were the role models in Bandura’s experiments, leaders that control the bases of power are the role models in large organizations. For these leaders there will inevitably appear some key moments where, through their actions, choices and decisions, they will send powerful messages that shape the ethical climate for their organizations and types of social norms that emerge. … how a leader responds in these ‘defining moments’ shapes the ‘character of their companies’.” (p. 30). Only leaders who are veritable role models will be able to prevent formal mechanism being eroded by informal mechanisms that hammer away at them. Again, Gentilin suggests that such failure of leadership is what happened at NAB and at the Barclays Bank during the LIBOR rate-fixing schedule, and for that matter in the phone-hacking scandal that led to the demise of News of the World. Gentilin concludes the chapter with a list of “ten questions for senior leaders within any organization” (pp. 37 – 38). Presumably, these questions are unlikely to be answered in an honest manner where it matters. It is the evidence accumulated in this chapter but also elsewhere (Dana et al. 2007 comes to mind, or Miller & Ross 1976) that suggests that much.

Gentilin starts off Chapter 2 with a Nietzsche quotation that sets the stage: “Madness is the exception in individuals but the rule in groups.” (p. 45). The basic point made is that group membership can reinforce – cue social media echo chambers – the drifting away from injunctive norms to descriptive ones. Writes he: “In my experience at the NAB, dysfunctional group dynamics in the currency options business played a significant role in promoting the emergence and maintenance of immoral social norms and unethical behaviour [such as flagrant and persistent limit breaches or excessive risk taking, AO]”. To buttress the case, Gentilin presents Milgram’s 1974 obedience studies, as well as Gina Perry’s recent critique of them (Perry 2012) which, in light of considerable supporting evidence of the original studies (e.g., Haslam et al. 2014), he dismissesin their substance. He then highlights what we learn from Milgram’s inclusion of a variation that drew on the group paradigm. That motivates a discussion of the conformity experiments through which Asch (1956) tried to identify the conditions under which participants would contradict a majority. In this context, Gentilin also briefly discusses a between-subjects study by Woodzicka & LeFrance (2001) who had a male interviewer ask female applicants inappropriate questions. The basic result was that 6 out of 10 subjects claimed they would object (hypothetically) but none in the control group refused the answer in a “real-life” scenario. That seems the kind of pattern that allowed the Weinsteins of this world to get their way for too long. Only in the case of Weinstein and similar assholes (here used in the technical sense of Sutton 2007), the stakes were arguably considerably higher. People’s lack of willingness to stand up and be counted is, unfortunately, so widespread that it is well documented and it is a recurrent theme of great movies such as Hidden Figures. Gentilin makes clear that, based on his experience at NAB, “facing the fork in the road in a hypothetical scenario is vastly different from facing it in reality.” (p. 67) He also states, “I am personally sceptical of other research into whistleblowing that focuses on ascertaining the types of personality or dispositional characteristics that may predict whether an observer of wrongdoing will take action and report it. …This line of enquiry fails to properly consider the power of the situation.” (p. 67). Gentilin concludes the chapter with another list of “ten questions for senior leaders (and followers) within any organization” (pp. 73). I doubt that these questions will be answered in an honest manner where it matters, for essentially the exact reason that Gentilin has identified in the chapter.

In Chapter 3, Gentilin – notwithstanding his, in my considered opinion, sensible stand on the relative importance of context and dispositional characteristics – dives into “our flawed humanity”. Programmatically, he starts with an epigraph featuring a quotation from Kant, “Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing has ever been made.” (p. 80). Gentilin then tries to answer questions such as “Are Humans Self-Interested?”, cursorily sampling evidence from experimental economics, neuroscience, and evolutionary biology. Predictably he concludes that this research shows that “human nature (is) far different from the one suggested by the axiom of self-interest” (p. 86), though he qualifies the statement with the caveat that we are not always altruistic and cooperative. This alleged “paradigm shift” (p. 87) is, unfortunately, the major bone of contention between those marketing Behavioural Economics (and often shamelessly benefitting from it) and those doing Experimental Economics, and I believe that the social-preferences literature that has created it has as much merits as the IN oxytocin, ego depletion, and power poses research now, for all I can see, thoroughly debunked. Better not plan your life, or organization, on such flimsy evidence. From an evidence point of view, and also a theory point of view (e.g., the important insights stemming from repeated game situations), this chapter is the weakest. Gentilin’s sampling of the evidence strikes me as scattershot and unsystematic. After discussions of issues such as power and its corrupting influence and fear and awareness of our own mortality that feeds into it, Gentilin concludes the chapter with a list of “eleven questions for senior leaders within any organization” (pp. 118) I fear, these questions, again, are unlikely to be answered in an honest manner where it matters.

In Chapter 4, Gentilin starts with a quotation from Kahneman’s best-seller Thinking Fast and Slow: “We can be blind to the obvious, and we can also be blind to our blindness.” This double-whammy – a variant of the Dunning – Krueger effect — is why questions to senior leaders are unlikely to be answered honestly and self-critically. After a brief mention of another persistent bone of contention – the System 1 / System 2 delineation – and our alleged propensity to rely too much on automatic system 1 which makes us, presumably, liable to various biases (in this chapter loss aversion, framing, overconfidence, moral disengagement, euphemistic labelling), Gentilin lays out the slippery-slope argument that in his view was at the heart of the events that led to the NAB trading scandal: “The FX trading incident at the NAB classically illustrated the slippery slope in action. Not only did ethical standards erode over time, but the seriousness of the ethical transgressions accelerated … “ (p. 130). Laboratory evidence is provided to make that point (e.g., the interesting Gino & Bazerman 2008 study) along with field evidence from the NAB case (pp. 131). An intervention discussed here is to give people more time and essentially get them to break out of their System 1 mode: “There are now numerous studies that illustrate how providing a person with more time whenever they are confronted with an ethical dilemma tends to lead to a more virtuous decision being made.” (pp. 146-7). I have serious doubt about the relevance of, say, the Good-Samaritian study mentioned here for real-world decision making and suspect that a theoretical grounding in organizational economics and repeated game theory would really help to address the challenges that organizations and their leaders face.

Gentilin concludes his book with a plea for more (business ethics) education, a call for the installation of Chief Ethics Officers, and more Lessons for Leaders. He wants business schools to challenge their students intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. That sounds like something straight out of a high-gloss advertisement such schools produce. The reality, however, of Australian business schools (and undoubtedly business schools everywhere) is that they are rarely intellectually demanding. Their inability to challenge their students emotionally and spiritually is shown effectively by their treatment of casuals and staff. What business schools typically do not have are, in particular, truly independent ethics officers, and HR departments, that could hold the feet of currently widely unaccountable senior leadership to the fire. So, while the idea of a Chief Ethics Officer, who has “a genuine ‘seat at the table’” (p. 161), and is independent, able to freely raise matters of concern, and able to freely “speak truth to power” (p. 161), is conceptually on the money, realistically it is very unlikely to be implemented any time soon, as are truly independent HR departments. As to Lessons for Leaders, Gentilin wants them to be virtuous in the sense of having some community-oriented values. There is a lot of wishful thinking on display here (e.g., that others are willing to take the same risks that he took in 2004) but I think, after everything we learned through the flurry of recent examples mentioned at the beginning of this review, there is not much reason for hope. Even something that should have been uncontroversial, such as the Royal Commission on banking, and the way it came about, demonstrates that common ground is hard to find and cannot be relied on. I fear much harder thinking will be needed to address ethical failures and I fear some strategies will be of the innovative kind provided by the #MeToo campaign that not only has brought down some true monsters but is likely to have changed power and gender relations in the working world irreversibly.

In summary then, Gentilin tackles arguably the most important issue of our times – ethical failures within organizations and for that matter ethical failures more generally. His book is strongest where he illustrates the emergence of his insights with examples from his own NAB 2004 experience. His illustration of various arguments he makes with evidence from behavioural business ethics is wanting. As pointed out above, to his credit Gentilin himself – although unaware of important methodological debates among psychologists as well as between psychologists and economists – grasps intuitively the lack of external validity of some of the evidence that he presents and it is clear that his NAB 2004 experience has been a good guide to identify which laboratory evidence has some external validity, and which does not. I think the book could be considerably improved with a more even-handed and complete assessment of the evidence from psychology and other social sciences (and here in particular economics) as well as an additional focus on incentive-compatible organizational design. To rely on business ethics education in business schools (whether in Australia or elsewhere) or a sense of community oriented-ness of business leaders is just not going to cut the mustard, as the widely perceived need for the Royal Commission in the banking system demonstrates.

Having recently interacted with NAB, once again, with mortgage related issues, I have no doubt that NAB culture is pervaded with everything but a meaningful social purpose that is underpinned by a virtuous set of values (e.g., the loan officer I dealt with did everything to prevent me from comparison shopping, and essentially gave me misleading information about the rates that I would be getting), and I have little doubt that the same applies to each of the other three major banks. There is a reason why the major banks in Australia have had outsized profits and some of the highest returns on equity in the world. The recent draft of the related Productivity Commission report spells them out.

I appreciate Dennis Gentilin’s comments on a draft of this review.

Review: Tomer’s Advanced Introduction to Behavioral Economics

In the next couple of months I shall, in preparation for an invited longer review essay on recent books on BE, post reviews of individual books such as Tomer’s, Angner’s A Course in Behavioral Economics, Cartwright’s An Introduction to Behavioral Economics, and Dhami’s The Foundations of Behavioral Economic Analysis. Comments are welcome.

Here is the first review, for your entertainment:

Tomer, John F. Advanced Introduction to Behavioral Economics. Elgar (2017). ISBN: 978 1 78471 991 3 (cased), ISBN: 978 1 78471 993 7 (paperback)

Tomer, an Emeritus Professor of Economics at Manhattan College, covers much ground in a fairly superficial manner. We are lectured about the scientific practices of “mainstream economics” (narrow, rigid, intolerant, mechanical, separate, individualistic; see p. 10) and the emergence of behavioral economics (BE). In passing, we hear about different “strands” of BE (chapter 3: “The bounded rationality strand”, chapters 4 and 5: “the psychological economics strand”, chapter 6: “behavioral finance”), “BE, public policy, and nudging” (chapter 7), “law and BE” (chapter 8), “behavioral macroeconomics” (chapter 9), “the empirical methods of BE” (chapter 10), and neuroeconomics (chapter 12). We are also treated to an answer (I am sure you can guess it) to the question: “Are mainstream economists open-minded toward behavioral economics or do they resist it?” (chapter 11) In chapter 13 the author enlightens us about paths “Toward a more humanistic BE” and in chapter 14 we can read about “Behavioral economic trends”.

Each of these chapters are about 10 – 12 pages long. Along the way we hear about ENE’s (Early Neoclassical Economics) and NE’s (Neoclassical Economics) “lack of behavioral realism. NE’s lack of connection to other social sciences in particularly regrettable for those who place a high value on a unified social science or at least on having many viable linkages among the different social sciences.” (p. 9) Referring to a decade-old study of his that was published in an inconsequential journal, we learn that “The results for NE (also referred to as mainstream economics) are quite clear. NE is rated high on all six dimensions (narrowness, rigidity, intolerance, mechanicalness, separateness, and individualism,” (p. 12). After this paper tiger has been successfully constructed, we are told how it is being torn to smithereens: “ In contrast, the eight strands of BE … are in general far less narrow, rigid, intolerant, mechanical, separate, and individualistic than NE. … Overall, there is clear evidence that BE is 1) less positivistic than NE … , 2) distinctively different from NE, and 3) much more integrated with other social science disciplines than NE. In other words, BE is arguably better than NE in the way it conducts its scientific practices.” (p. 12)

This tired rhetorical figure has been used by those marketing BE for a long time. It also shows up regularly in the press (e.g., Elliott 2017 but see Attanasio et al. 2017 or for that matter Ortmann 2012), the related blogosphere, and even literature (Schumacher 2014): while BE is much more realistic and useful, NE is the old staid economics (that has done little for us). In the words of the protagonist of Dear Committee Members, “ … sociology has gone the way of poli-sci and econ, now firmly in the clutches of rabid number crunchers who have abandoned or forgotten the link between their abstruse theoretical musings and the presence of human beings on the planet’s surface; .. ” (p. 152)

That lack of behavioral realism is, so we learn, addressed by behavioural economists’ wholesale adoption of psychological insights which inevitably “enrich” the dismal models of mainstream economists. Ignoring the interesting question what the trade-off is that these richer models come with – in this book this trade-off is never discussed –, there are at least two issues here.

First, and to repeat a theme that I have belabored elsewhere (see also this comment here), there is no such thing as a monolithic body of evidence in psychology that economists could mine to inject more behavioral realism in their allegedly dismal models. The fact is, much of the evidence on heuristics and biases that is being appealed to has been questioned left and right. Every halfway knowledgeable (behavioral) economist will agree that the only interesting question about cognitive biases (such as reference dependence, endowment effects, availability, anchoring & adjustment, and representativeness) is when, and under what circumstances, they exist (if they exist at all).

Second, and more importantly, psychology as a field has, at least since Bem (2011), gone through what many people have called a replicability crisis (e.g., OSC 2015, Spellman 2015, Schimmack 2018) that played out at first in blogs and discussion groups such as the Facebook Psychological Methods Discussion Group, but increasingly also in journals and their practices. You would not know that some such upheaval is happening from reading Tomer’s book.

Take, for example, Tomer’s telling discussion of Zak’s oxytocin research in chapter 13. We learn that he is “a well-known economist who appreciates the softer, more intangible side of human behavior” (p. 145) and has shown through his research that “there is a direct link between the amount of oxytocin in humans’ blood and brains and humans’ concerns for each other. … Most importantly, oxytocin fosters trust. Oxytocin surges in a person’s bloodstream when an individual is shown a sign of trust and/or when something engages in a person’s sympathies and they experience empathy. ” (lit cit) Unfortunately, these claims have been thoroughly debunked and even effectively ridiculed in one of John Oliver’s excellent shows. All the literature I know suggests strongly that Intranasal oxytocin has no discernible effect and claims to the contrary are about as much bogus science as claims of ego depletion and the empowering effects of power poses: what these alleged phenomena reflect is little but shoddy science that people got away with for too long, demonstrating a cavalier attitude to questionable research practices from p-hacking over lack of proper powering up to hiding unsuccessful trials in drawers. You would not know about this crisis if you trusted Tomer who seems completely unaware of these developments that are slowly also starting to be recognized in economics.

Yes, I am not impressed by Tomer’s book. The knowledge laid out in Tomer’s slim volume is severely out of date and unabashedly partisan. According to the December 2017 IDEAS/RePeC data, there are at least 50,000 research economists out there world-wide and they innovate every day in what is most likely one of the most brutally competitive industries the world has seen. The idea that somewhere someone (“mainstream economics”) has a monopoly on doctrinal truth and can enforce it, shows a stunning cluelessness about the current state of the art (and science) of economics and its sociology. In his recent presidential address, Alvin E. Roth – an outsider of sorts himself — has argued that economics has been very open to various outsiders and their ideas and practices and you have surely seen that in the emergence of experimental economics and also in some quarters of BE (although BE remains afflicted with many charlatans, often of the non-academic kind that sell BE as panacea to everyone who thinks they can get something for nothing).

I doubt that Tomer’s slim volume is “particularly useful for advanced undergraduate students, graduate students, policymakers, and other professionals who participate economic-related matters.” (statement on the back of the book) In fact, I fear it will promote more sloppy science of the kind that is on display in this book. That kind of sloppy science is also too often on display when you speak with policy makers and Behavioral Insights architects and the like these days.

When all is said and done, it is this kind of sloppiness that undermines trust in the joint enterprise called science.

Lemonade and the question of (laboratory) evidence

Lemonade Inc., the New York based fintech startup that sells home and renters insurance has been in the news recently. It has raised tens of millions in venture capital and also considerable interest in the top echelons of corporate Australia. I know because I was asked to reflect on it as part of a workshop on behavioral economics/behavioral science that I conducted a couple of months ago. I have to admit that I did not know about Lemonade before that request.

Turns out that Lemonade uses “Behavioral Science (and Technology) To Onboard Customers and Keep Them Honest”, so the title of a piece in Fast Company earlier this year. Lemonade bets that insights from Behavioral Economics (BE) will give it the edge over incumbent competitors. It bets specifically that the BE insights of Dan Ariely (he of Predictably Irrational and TED talk fame, and now Lemonade’s CBO = Chief Behavioral Officer) will provide that edge, important components being “trusting our customers” and “giving back” to charity all unused excess funds. On top of these components, or maybe undergirding it, is the promise that Lemonade commits to spending at most 20 percent of its income on administration and marketing, which presumably prevents it from profit maximizing at the expense of its customers. Lemonade also promises that it will process claims fast and relatively un-bureaucratically, at least by the standard of an industry that has a reputation for delaying tactics and for its persistent attempts to evade having to pay up. Examples of speedy processing are featured prominently on Lemonade’s website.

And not only that: A couple of months ago, Lemonade launched its Zero Everything policy which gets rid of deductibles and rate hikes after claims and is supposed to pay for itself through elimination of the paperwork that comes with relatively small claims.

BE principles are also appealed to when customers that make claims are asked to submit a brief video outlining their claim and to provide at the same time a honesty pledge which supposedly induces more honesty.

In sum then, Lemonade builds its business allegedly on the trust(worthiness) of its customers, and of itself, and also honesty on the part of both parties.

Let’s start with the (laboratory) evidence for trust(worthiness). On its web page, Lemonade illustrates the advantages of trust(worthiness) with one of the workhorses of experimental economics, the trust, or investment, game. According to the web page, a person that invests (the trustor) will see her investment to a trustee of $100 quadruple and then see the trustee return half of that $400 to herself (the trustor), for an impressive ROI of one hundred percent. Trust pays off, we learn: “We are more trusting and reciprocating than what standard economic theory predicts.”

Ignoring the stab at economic theory (which shows little more than a lack of elementary knowledge of modern economic theory), there are at least three problems with the Lemonade narrative. First, it is not clear at all why this particular game, in this particular parameterization, captures the customer – insurance company situation. Second, I am not aware of anyone ever having experimentally tested this game with that specific parametrization (specifically, a multiplication factor of 4), and I am not aware — the multiplication factors typically used being 3 or 2 — of responders returning more than what was invested. In fact, the results of my own work (which are very much in line with the literature in this area) suggest that trustors invest about half of what they were given and trustees return slightly less than what was invested. It is noteworthy that there is much heterogeneous behavior to be found in these experiments, with many of those that trust (“invest”) being brutally exploited.

“Everyone has a price, the important thing is to find out what it is.” (P. Escobar)

Which brings us to the question of honesty. There is indeed some evidence that the way in which people are being prompted makes a difference and, more generally, that context matters (see Various, JEBO 2016). Friesen & Gangadharan (Economics Letters 2012) use an individual performance task (“matrix task”) after which they ask their subjects to self-report the number of successes that participants had. While very few of their participants – only one out of 12 — are dishonest to the maximal extent, about one out of 3 are to different degrees, with men (in particular those of Aussie and NZ provenance) being more dishonest, and more frequently so, than female participants. Rosenbaum, Billinger, & Stieglitz (Journal of Economic Psychology 2014) review experimental evidence of (dis)honesty 63 experiments from economics and psychology (including Friesen and Gangadharan EL 2012) and find the robust presence of unconditional cheaters and non-cheaters with the honesty of the remaining individuals being particularly susceptible to monitoring and intrinsic lying costs. Most of these experiments involve fairly low stakes, so those intrinsic lying costs are unlikely to be much of a constraint when stakes increase. The fraction of unconditional non-cheaters is almost certain to shrink towards the Escobar limit when stakes increase.

Interestingly, notwithstanding its public declarations in the good of people, Lemonade tells itself that, while trust is good, control is better. It runs its claimants, on top of the honesty pledges, through 18 different fraud detection algorithms before it pays up. On top of this, Lemonade engages in blatant cream-skimming. For example, it did not quote half of their customers that wanted to insure their homes. And it reports that the customers that are joining, or allowed to join, are younger, educated, tech-savvy, above-average earners, and female. So much for trust, trustworthiness, and all that BE marketing horsemanure. Pretty cold-blooded standard economic theory if you ask me. Note that this screening takes care of a key problem with their advertised approach: the likely adverse selection of bad types that mere trusting would invite, a very likely whammy on top of the moral hazard problem that every insurer faces.

So is Lemonade a viable business model?

Time will tell.

In the State of New York, Lemonade claims to have overtaken Allstate, GEICO, Liberty Mutual, State Farm, etc. in what is probably the single most critical market (renters and home insurance) share metric of all: NY renters buying new insurance policies since 1 Jan 2017.

Lemonade, we are told, is growing “exponentially” = “new bookings have doubled every ten weeks since launch, and show no sign of letting up.” According to its most recent Thanksgiving Transparency ‘17 report, Lemonade has now branched out into, and is selling in, Illinois, California and Nevada, Texas, New Jersey and Rhode Island, and has been licensed in 15 other states.

Of course, collecting insurance premia is one thing. Paying insurance claims and balancing the books is another thing altogether and the verdict on that one will be out for a while.

If Lemonade succeeds – and we all should hope it does –, it will do so because it engages in cream-skimming, targeting of low-risk market segments, and massive control and surveillance of its clientele. It will not do so because of its invocation of the feel-good alleged BE findings so prominently displayed on its web page.

Why Blockchain has no economic future

When Bitcoin went public in 2009 it introduced to the world of finance and economics the technology of blockchain. Even the many who thought Bitcoin would never make it as a major currency were intrigued by the BlockChain technology and a large set of new companies have tried to figure out how to offer new services based on blockchain technology. It is still fair to say that very few economists and social scientists understand blockchain, and governments are even further behind.

I will argue that blockchain has no economic future in the regular economy. I will give you the bottom-line, then describe blockchain, discuss its key supposed advantages, and then take it apart as a viable technology by giving you a much more efficient alternative to the same market demand opportunities.

The bottom line for those not interested in the intricacies of blockchains and public trust

The essence of my argument is that a large country can organise a much more trustworthy information system than a distributed network using blockchain can, and at lower costs, meaning that any large economic role for blockchain is easily displaced by a cheaper and even larger national institution.

So in the 19^th century, large private companies circulated their own money, in competition with towns and princedoms. In that competition, national governments won, as they will again now.

The reason that the tech community is investing in blockchain companies is partially because some are in love with the technicalities of blockchain, some hope to attract the same criminal and gullible element that Bitcoin has, some lack awareness of the evolution and reality of political systems, and some see a second-best opportunity not yet taken by others. But even in this brief period of missing-in-action governments, large companies will easily outperform blockchain communities on any mayor market. Except the criminal markets, which is hence the only real future of blockchain communities. Continue reading “Why Blockchain has no economic future”

Adverse Action Lawyer wanted in Frijters versus UQ case

I am seeking a lawyer to run an Adverse Action case connected to the recent Fair Work Commission verdict that found systematic breaches of procedures and procedural fairness in the University of Queensland’s actions against me following my research on racial attitudes in Brisbane. I first raised these breaches late 2013, but they were never addressed, with lots of new ones added to them as the case dragged on. The VC of the university was also personally informed of these breaches in April 2014, publicly denying there was anything wrong about UQ’s action in February 2015. He was again informed in March 2015, consistently failing to rectify breaches of procedure brought to his attention. I wish to bring an Adverse Action case to claim back my considerable costs.

I expect the case to be worth at least a few hundred thousand dollars in terms of damages (legal cost, value of my time, etc.), and for it to be potentially one of many others because the FW case uncovered widespread breaches of procedures in UQ’s handling of misconduct cases. So there might well be many others who are now looking to bring Adverse Action cases against UQ.

I offer a pay-for-success contract wherein the first part of any awarded damages would go to the lawyer, but after a threshold payment I want 50% to go to the successful lawyer and 50% towards Vanavil, which is a school for orphaned victims of the 2004 Tsunami flood in India. I feel that helping the poorest Indians will go some way to nullify the damage that the managers of UQ did when they suppressed evidence of adverse treatments of Indians (and Indigenous peoples) in Brisbane and made it harder to research these things in general. And I want to feel that I haven’t wasted my time these last three years on fighting mindless bureaucracies, but that my efforts ended up helping people in need.

Negotiations on the offered contract are possible. Please contact me on email if you are interested or have a good suggestion for a good adverse action lawyer ( p dot frijters AT uq dot edu dot au).

[Ps. The VC of UQ was still making inappropriate claims last week on the UQ media about his lack of involvement and has refused to retract his claims this last week when I pointed his errors out to him.]

Scottish independence: a good idea or a bad idea?

Today the people residing in Scotland can decide whether they want to see an independent Scotland or to have Scotland remain in the UK. The betting markets concur with the opinion polls and favour the status quo: the markets give roughly 20% chance that the ‘yes’ vote will win and that Scotland will become independent.

The majority of economists talking about the referendum have focused on whether or not the Scots would be financially better off with their own country, debating things like North Sea oil revenues and currency unions. I think that is a distraction: looking at small and large countries in Europe, you would have to say there is no noticeable advantage or disadvantage to being a small country and that the Scots are hence unlikely to be materially affected in the long run by independence.
Independence is more about self-image and identity than it is about money. Even though the push for independence might well come from politicians and bureaucracies that gain prestige and income if they ruled an independent country, the population deciding on the vote will probably vote on emotional grounds, not economic. Young male Scots appear overwhelmingly in favour of independence; females and old people prefer to keep things the way they are. The latter groups are bigger and are expected to sway the day.

Personally, I have two related reasons to oppose the breaking up of larger countries in Europe into smaller ethnically defined states, not just Scotland, but also Catalonia, the Basque region, the Frisian province, Bavaria, and all the other regions of Europe:

These independence movements are ethnic and hence by definition exclusionary. This is a big concern: large nation states have slowly moved away from the story that they exist for people of the ‘right’ bloodlines and with ancestors who lived in the ‘right’ place. The UK, the US, France, Australia, and even Germany and Spain have moved towards an identity based on stories about what it means to be British, American, French, Australian, etc., rather than a ‘blood and earth’ ethnic nation state story. Speaking tongue-in-cheek, the Brits have an upper lip story, the Americans have an exceptionalism story, the French have been convinced they like reading Proust, the new Australians are told in their citizenship exams that they believe in a fair go, etc. These stories contain treasured national stereotypes, complete with imagined histories. The key thing is that are inclusive, ie any newcomer from another place can participate in such stories. The Australian national anthem is a beautiful example of this super-inclusive attitude as it, almost uniquely, mentions neither ethnicity nor religion as a basis for being Australian. The ethnic stories of the independence movements are, in contrast, exclusionary and hence harmful to the self-image of any migrant. It is a move to a past that we have little reason to be proud of, as it marginalises current and future migrants. The story surrounding Scottish independence is thus not that the Scots are people who like to wear kilts and enjoy haggis, but that they make up the people who have suffered 700 years of oppression by the English. What is a recent newcomer from, say, Poland to do with such a self-image but conclude that they do not really belong there?
The mixing of populations inside the UK due to factors like work, marriage, and retirement, now means that large parts of the ‘Scots’ live elsewhere and large parts of the population living in Scotland come from elsewhere. So there are reportedly close to a million Scottish-born people living elsewhere in the UK, and half a million people living in Scotland who were in fact born in England. Becoming independent from those ‘evil English that oppressed us for 700 years’ means marginalising both the 10% of the resident Scottish population actually born in England and putting a traitorous label on the million that decided the supposed oppressors were people you could marry and work with. If we consider the fractional heritage that nearly every UK citizen has, with some ancestors from Scotland and some from elsewhere, nearly every UK citizen will then almost arbitrarily be ‘forced to choose’ whether their fractional Scottishness counts as 1 or as 0. This is a problem: the roughly 5% of my ancestry that is probably Scottish does not want to be alienated from the 45% that comes from other parts of the British Isles!

These two reasons amplify each other: the damage that an ethnic-story based independence movement does gets amplified if the mixing is very large and is somewhat less of a factor when there is very little mixing.

What goes for Scotland goes doubly for many other regions in Europe: for instance, I believe some 40% of the people living in Catalonia are born outside of Catalonia and in other Spanish regions. The population mixing between regions of France and Germany is similarly large. The reality of a joint national economy is that the populations have internally mixed and artificially going ‘back’ to supposedly ethnically pure groups that define themselves in terms of adversity to the others is a regression.

It is of course these mixed populations that provide a counter-weight to any break-away movement, and they provide clear policy prescriptions for those who want to keep their countries intact: mix the population around to emasculate those who want to pull any geographic ethnicity card.

So I will be hoping that the betting markets are right, that mixing populations over the last few decades has done its integrative job, and that the ‘No’ vote wins.

Vision 28

How would you measure the safety of private motor vehicle travel?

Let’s agree to focus on fatalities. Serious injuries are also important, but all the points I am going to make hold equally as well for injuries as for fatalities. Continue reading “Vision 28”

The Xmas quiz answers and discussion

Last Monday I posted 4 questions to see who thought like a classic utilitarian and who adhered to a wider notion of ethics, suspecting that in the end we all subscribe to ‘more’ than classical utilitarianism. There are hence no ‘right’ answers, merely classic utilitarian ones and other ones.

The first question was to whom we should allocate a scarce supply of donor organs. Let us first briefly discuss the policy reality and then the classic utilitarian approach.

The policy reality is murky. Australia has guidelines on this that advocate taking various factors into account, including the expected benefit to the organ recipient (relevant to the utilitarian) but also the time spent on the waiting list (not so relevant). Because organs deteriorate quickly once removed, there are furthermore a lot of incidental factors important, such as which potential recipient is answering the phone (relevant to a utilitarian)? In terms of priorities though, the guidelines supposedly take no account of “race, religion, gender, social status, disability or age – unless age is relevant to the organ matching criteria.” To the utilitarian this form of equity is in fact inequity: the utilitarian does not care who receives an extra year of happy life, but by caring about the total number of additional happy years, the utilitarian would use any information that predicts those additional happy years, including race and gender.

In other countries, the practices vary. In some countries the allocation is more or less on the basis of expected benefit and in the other is it all about ‘medical criteria’ which in reality include the possibility that donor organs go to people with a high probability of a successful transplant but a very low number of expected additional years. Some leave the decision entirely up to individual doctors and hospitals, putting huge discretion on the side of an individual doctor, which raises the fear that their allocation is not purely on the grounds of societal gain.

What would the classic utilitarian do? Allocate organs where there is the highest expected number of additional happy lives. This thus involves a judgement on who is going to live long and who is going to live happy. Such things are not knowable with certainty, so a utilitarian would turn to statistical predictors of both, using whatever indicator could be administrated.

As to length of life, we generally know that rich young women have the highest life expectancy. And amongst rich young women in the West, white/Asian rich young women live even longer. According to some studies in the US, the difference with other ethnic groups (Black) can be up to 10 years (see the research links in this wikipedia page on the issue). As to whom is happy, again the general finding is that rich women are amongst the happiest groups. Hence the classic utilitarian would want to allocate the organs to rich white/Asian young women.I should note that the classic utilitarian would thus have no qualms about ending up with a policy that violates the anti-discrimination laws of many societies. Our societies shy away from using observable vague characteristics as information to base allocations on, which implicitly means that the years of life of some groups are weighed higher than the years of life of another. The example thus points to a real tension between on the one hand classic utilitarianism and its acceptance of statistical discrimination on the basis of gender and perceived ethnicity and on the other hand the dominant moral positions within our society. Again, I have no wish to say which one is ‘right’ but merely note the discrepancy. As to myself, I have no problem with the idea that priority in donor organs should be given to young women though I also see a utilitarian argument for a bit of positive discrimination in terms of a blind eye to ethnicity (ie, there is utilitarian value in maintaining the idea that allocations should not be on the basis of perceived ethnicity, even though in this case that comes at a clear loss of expected life years).

The second question surrounded the willingness to pre-emptively kill off threats to the lives of others.

The policy reality here is, again, murky. In order to get a conviction on the basis of ‘attempted’ acts of terrorism or murder, the police would have to have pretty strong evidence of a high probability that the acts were truly going to happen. A 1-in-a-million chance of perpetrating an act that would cost a million lives would certainly not be enough. Likely, not even a 10% chance would be enough, even though the expected costs of a 10% chance would be 100,000 lives, far outweighing the life of the one person (and I know that the example is somewhat artificial!).

When it concerns things like the drone-program of the west though, under which the US, with help from its allies (including Australia), kills off potential terrorist threats and accepts the possibility of collateral damage, the implicit accepted burden of proof seems much lower. I am not saying this as a form of endorsement, but simply stating what seems to go on. Given the lack of public scrutiny it is really hard to know just how much lower the burden of proof is and where in fact the information is coming from to identify targets, but being a member of a declared terrorist organisation seems to be enough cause, even if the person involved hasn’t yet harmed anybody. Now, it is easy to be holier-than-thou and dismissive about this kind of program, but the reality is that this program is supported by our populations: the major political parties go along with this, both in the US and here (we are not abandoning our strategic alliance over it with the Americans, are we, nor denying them airspace?), implying that the drone program happens, de facto, with our society’s blessing, even if some of us as individuals have mixed feelings about it. So the drone program is a form of pre-emptively killing off potential enemies because of a perceived probability of harm. The cut-off point on the probability is not known, but it is clearly lower than used in criminal cases inside our countries.

To the classic utilitarian, if all one knew would be the odds of damage and the extent of damage, then the utilitarian would want to kill off anyone who represented a net expected loss. Hence the classic utilitarian would indeed accept any odds just above 1 in a million when the threat is to a million lives: the life of the potential terrorist is worth the expected costs of his possible actions (which is one life). If one starts to include the notion that our societies derive benefit from the social norm that strong proof of intended harm is needed before killing anyone, then even the classic utilitarian would increase the threshold odds to reflect the disutility of being seen to harm those social norms, though the classic utilitarian would quickly reduce the thresholds if there were many threats and hence the usefulness of the social norm became less and less relevant. To some extent, this is exactly how our society functions: in a state of emergency or war, the burden of proof required to shoot a potential enemy drastically reduces as the regular rule of law and ‘innocent till proven guilty’ norms give way to a more radical ‘shoot now, agonize later’ mentality. If you like, we have recognised mechanisms for ridding ourselves of the social norm of a high burden of proof when the occasion calls for it.

As to personally pulling the trigger, the question to a utilitarian becomes entirely one of selfishness versus the public good and thus dependent on the personal pain of the person who would have to pull the trigger. To the utilitarian person who is completely selfless but who experiences great personal pain from pulling the trigger, the threshold probability becomes 2 in a million (ie, his own life and that of the potential terrorist), but to a more selfish person the threshold could rise very high such that even with certainty the person is not willing to kill someone else to save a million others. That might be noble under some moral codes, but to a utilitarian it would represent extreme selfishness.

So the example once again shows the gulf between how our societies normally function when it concerns small probabilities of large damages, and what the classic utilitarian would do. A utilitarian is happy to act on small probabilities, though of course eager to purchase more information if the possibility is there. Our societies are less trigger-happy. Only in cases whereby there is actual experienced turmoil and damage, do our societies gradually revert to a situation where it indeed just takes a cost-benefit frame of mind and suspends other social norms. A classic utilitarian is thus much more pro-active and willing to act on imperfect information than is normal in our societies.

The third question was about divulging information that would cause hurt but that did not lead to changes in outcomes. In the case of the hypothetical, the information was about the treatment of pets. To the classic utilitarian, this one is easy: information itself is not a final outcome and, since the hypothetical was set up in that way, the choice was between a lower state of utility with more information, versus a higher state of utility with less information. The classic utilitarian would chose the higher utility and not make the information available.

The policy reality in this case is debatable. One might argue that the hypothetical, ie that more information would not lead to changes but merely to hurt, is so unrealistic that it basically does not resemble any real policies. Some commentators made that argument, saying they essentially had no idea what I was asking, and I am sympathetic to it.

The closest one comes to the hypothetical it is the phenomenon of general flattery, such as where populations tell themselves they are god’s chosen people with a divine mission, or where whole populations buy into the idea that no-one is to blame for their individual bad choices (like their smoking choices). One might see the widespread phenomenon of keeping quiet when others are enjoying flattery as a form of suppressing information that merely hurts and would have no effect. Hence one could say that ‘good manners’ and ‘tact’ are in essence about keeping information hidden that hurts others. Personally, though I hate condoning the suppression of truth for any cause, I have to concede the utilitarian case for it.

The fourth and final question is perhaps the most glaring example of a difference between policy reality and classic utilitarianism, as it is about the distinction between an identified saved life and a statistically saved life. As one commenter already noted (Ken), politicians find it expedient to go for the identified life rather than the un-identified statistical life, and this relates to the lack of reflection amongst the population.

To the classic utilitarian, it should not matter whose life is saved: all saved lives are to the classic utilitarian ‘statistical’. Indeed, it is a key part of utilitarianism that there is no innate superiority of this person over that one. Hence, the classic utilitarian would value an identified life equally to a statistical one and would thus be willing to pour the same resources into preventing the loss of a life (via inoculations, safe road construction, etc.) as into saving a particular known individual.

The policy practice is miles apart from classic utilitarianism, not just in Australia but throughout the Western world. For statistical lives, the Australian government more or less uses the rule of thumb that it is willing to spend some 50,000 dollars per additional happy year. This is roughly the cut-off point for new medicines onto the Pharmaceutical benefit Scheme. It is also pretty much the cut-off point in other Western countries for medicines (as a rule of thumb, governments are willing to pay about a median income for another year of happy life of one of their citizens).

For identified lives, the willingness to pay is easily ten times this amount. Australia thus has a ‘Life Saving Drugs’ program for rare life-threatening conditions. This includes diseases like Gaucher Disease, Fabry disease, and the disease of Pompe. Openly-available estimates of the implied cost of a life vary and it is hard to track down the exact prices, but each year of treatment for a Pompe patient was said, in a Canadian conference for instance, to cost about 500,000 dollars. In New Zealand, the same cost of 500,000 is being used in their media. Here in Australia, the treatment involved became available in 2008 and I understand it indeed costs about 500,000 per patient per year. There will be around 500 patients born with Pompe on this program in Australia (inferred from the prevalence statistics). Note that this treatment cost does not in fact mean the difference between life and death: rather it means the difference between a shorter life and a longer one. Hence the cost per year of life saved is actually quite a bit higher than 500,000 for this disease.

What does this mean? It means, quite simply, that in stead of saving one person with the disease of Pompe, one could save at least 10 others. In order for the person born with Pompe to live, 10 others in his society die. It is a brutal reality that is difficult to talk about, but that does not change the reality. Why is the price so high? Because the pharmaceutical companies can successfully bargain with governments for an extremely high price on these visible lives saved. They hold politicians to ransom over it, successfully in the case of Australia.

Saving one identified life rather than ten unidentified ones is not merely non-utilitarian. It also vastly distorts incentives. It distorts the incentives for researchers and pharmaceutical companies away from finding solutions to the illnesses had by the anonymous many, to finding improvements in the lives of the identifiable few. It creates incentives to find distinctions between patients so that new ‘small niches’ of identified patients can be found out of which to make a lot of money. Why bother trying to find cures for malaria and cancer when it is so much more lucrative to find a drug that saves a small but identifiable fraction of the population of a rich country?

So kudos to those willing to say they would go for the institution that saved the most lives. I agree with you, but your society, as witnessed by its actions, does not yet agree, opening the question what can be done to more rationally decide on such matters.

Thanks to everyone who participated in the quiz and merry X-mas!

Rich countries and happiness: the story of a bet.

Do countries that are already rich become even happier when they become yet richer? This was the essential question on which I entered a gentleman’s bet in 2004 with Andrew Leigh and which just recently got settled.

The reason for the bet was a famous hypothesis in happiness research called the Easterlin hypothesis which held that happiness did not increase when rich countries became even richer. When I was preparing a presentation on this matter in 2004 I used the following graph to illustrate the happiness income relation across countries:

This graph shows you the relation between average income (GDP in purchasing power terms) and average happiness on a 0-10 scales for many countries. As one can see, the relation between income and happiness is upward sloping for low levels of income, but becomes somewhat flat after 15,000 dollars per person. I championed the idea that this was not just true if you looked across countries, but that this would also hold true over time.

Andrew Leigh’s thinking was influenced by other data, particularly a paper by Stevenson and Wolfers which – he thinks debunks the Easterlin hypothesis. Here’s one of their graphs:

What’s striking about this graph is that the dotted line slopes up in the top right corner. In other words, the relationship between happiness and income becomes stronger, not weaker, for countries with average incomes over $15,000. Andrew thinks that this is because they specify income in log terms (in other words, we’re looking at the effect on happiness of a percentage increase in income rather than a dollar increase in income). I think it’s because the Gallup poll isn’t measuring happiness, but is instead asking people to rank themselves on the Cantrill ladder of life scale.

So our gentleman’s bet was in effect a bet on whether happiness in the world value surveys behaved different to the ladder question of the Gallup polls, and on whether the short-run relation between income and happiness was strong enough to show up in periods of 5 to 10 years as well. Andrew thought it would, I thought 5-10 years would be long enough for the typical long-run no-effects findings to show up and that happiness has a different relation with income than the Cantril-question. So we bet on whether one would get a significantly positive relation between GDP growth and happiness changes for the rich countries when one looked at the World Value data for 2005. We agreed to look at the relation between income and happiness using country-average variation. The winner would get 100 bucks.

Now, both of us forgot about the bet for a few years as the data was supposed to become available. Only recently did Andrew remind me of our bet and asked to check what had happened.

When I (with research assistance from Debayan Pakrashi) started to look into this data again, it quickly became apparent that Andrew and I had been pretty sloppy in formulating the precise conditions of the bet. In many ways, our bet had been far too vague.

For one, the World Value survey is not in fact held in particular years. Rather, some survey is run almost every year in some country that adds to the collection of surveys known as the World Value Survey. Hence there was really no such thing as a ‘2005 wave’. Taken literally, only Australia, Finland, and Japan had a survey in 2005 and were countries that in the previous wave already had a GDP of 15,000 dollars. In all those countries, income had gone up a lot since their previous survey, with Australian happiness down and Japanese and Finnish happiness up. That is a bit meagre as ‘waves’ go.

So the first ‘addition’ was to have a bandwidth of years for the ‘2005’ waves that included 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008. That gave 12 countries that were rich enough in the previous wave to qualify. The raw data was:

The next ‘snag’ was of course that there are many ways to define the dependence on income: linear or logarithmic. With logarithmic income one normally gets stronger statistical significance on income, so we went for logarithms.

Then, of course, there are still many other things one can put into the regression. Does one account for effects of particular years (in bands) and for the level of happiness that a country starts? We decided to try it all. Hence the final ‘deciding’ set of regressions were as follows:

Which tells you that the relation between income changes and happiness changes (the last two columns) was either quite insignificantly positive or even negative if one entered year-bands.

When one reflects on the list of countries used in the analysis though, it is clear that the outcome of the bet will have had little to do with the true relation between income and happiness. It will have hinged on hidden aspects of the data. For instance, the Australian world value survey in 1995 was run differently from the 2005 version. Hence the big drop in Australian happiness you see in this period for this data does in fact not show up for other Australian data (like the HILDA). So one suspects some change in the data-gathering to be responsible for it. Indeed, the level of Australian happiness in this data is markedly below the level found for the HILDA (where it is almost 8.0).

Similarly, the big increase in Japanese happiness in this period doesn’t show up either in other Japanese data and so probably has something to do with changes in how the survey was run there. The changes can relate to the months in which the surveys were held, the precise words used for the happiness question, the questions preceding the happiness questions, the cities in which the survey was run, how the survey was run (face-to-face or via telephone), etc.

So I may have gotten lucky and won the bet, but one cannot see the outcome as decisive evidence that income and happiness have no long-run relation within rich countries. The data for the 2010 post-GFC wave might well show the opposite!

From the comments: Baby Bonus solution

In the comments on my post last week about the baby bonus removal implementation, Sven Feldmann writes:

The easy solution—which in fact is not ruled out by the quoted policy announcement—would be for all existing baby bonus payments to stop on March 1, 2014. Rather than creating a payment cliff of $3,000 ≈ One pack of cigarettes a day for a year (NJ, 2011)

“>on that date, this would create an (almost) smooth gradient over 6 months starting in Sept. 2013, since the baby bonus is paid in 13 fortnightly instalments. Problem solved.

It is a great solution and also politically viable too as the impact of the baby bonus payments stopping would only be felt after the election. This is what a broad imagination buys with economic policy.

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