In Defense of Economics

This is primarily a response to this WSJ article by George Mason University economist Russ Roberts. I'll divide my thoughts on the points into three broad categories.

Il Buono

First, the good points. Russ Roberts has a knack for asking good questions, particularly questions about broad, philosophical issues. In many ways, the most important questions the government is wrestling with right now look a lot more like "Do we want to be more like France with a bigger role for government, or less like France?" and less like "Which paradigm is the 'right' way to think about the boom and the bust?"

Roberts also has a sharp wit, enabling him to illustrate the problems he sees with his opposition in enlightening ways.
The defenders of modern macroeconomics argue that if we just study the economy long enough, we'll soon be able to model it accurately and design better policy. Soon. That reminds me of the permanent sign in the bar: Free Beer Tomorrow.
Finally, Roberts really seems to understand why economics, and particularly macroeconomics, is so difficult.
If economics is a science, it is more like biology than physics. Biologists try to understand the relationships in a complex system. That's hard enough. But they can't tell you what will happen with any precision to the population of a particular species of frog if rainfall goes up this year in a particular rain forest. They might not even be able to count the number of frogs right now with any exactness.
We have the same problems in economics. The economy is a complex system, our data are imperfect and our models inevitably fail to account for all the interactions.
I often prefer to class epidemiology, climatology, and macroeconomics together. All three study highly complex systems, which we don't even come close to fully understanding, and do so using whatever observations of the system we manage to get. Compared to these disciplines, progress in physics, chemistry,  engineering, and even psychology is a walk in the park (and believe me, it's not).

Il Brutto

When faced with the issues and weaknesses discussed above, Roberts concludes that "we should expect less of economists." In other words, getting useful answers is hard, so maybe we shouldn't try. Now, biology and medical science have made precious little real progress against cancer in the last thirty years or so, but I doubt Roberts would argue we should expect less from cancer researchers. Why he feels comfortable taking such an odd position toward others in his discipline I am not really sure.

Roberts reaches this conclusion after stating that he no longer believes in the value of macroeconomic statistical studies.
I've started asking economists if they can name a study that applied sophisticated econometrics to a controversial policy issue where the study was so well done that one side's proponents had to admit they were wrong. I don't know of any.
Of course, if Roberts can name a particular study, any study,  that forced one side of a controversial policy issue to admit they were wrong, then I would consider this challenge meaningful. But of course he won't be able to, any more than I could meet his challenge. It doesn't work that way. Changing people's opinions and beliefs, especially when the validity of their life's work (and possibly their income) may be on the line, doesn't come suddenly, no matter how good the work.

Il Cattivo

My main complaint, however, is not that Roberts exaggerates his conclusions. It's an article for a newspaper, not an academic journal; reaching a broader argument with the essence of one's conclusions requires a degree of drama, and while I find it kind of annoying at times, it's not unreasonable.

However, some of Roberts comments are not designed so much to get his message across as they are to solidify his position of superiority relative to those who disagree with him.
When the debate is over $2 trillion in additional government spending vs. zero, we've stopped being scientists and become philosophers.
On its own, the above comment could seem innocuous enough; after all, Roberts could be arguing that economics should be more like philosophy. But this is difficult to reconcile with previous comments like the following:
After all, most sciences make progress.
So while Roberts seems to be in favor of economists admitting to being like un-scientific philosophy, he doesn't portray this fact positively. After all, his conclusion is that we shouldn't expect so much from such an un-scientific discipline.

Roberts seems pretty comfortable slighting alternative methods of uncovering truth. He relates Ed Leamer's description of "faith-based" econometrics, because faith is the opposite of science. He offers other lines designed to subtly accuse economists in general, and particularly macroeconomists, of self-importance and hypocricy:
It makes you wonder why people call it the Nobel Prize in Economic Science.
If economics is a science, [...]
Admitting that publicly is the first step toward respectability.
The last sentence, especially, indicates that economists are not currently respectable. If they'd like to be, they should listen to Russ Roberts and admit their own ignorance. It reminds me of a scene from the movie There Will Be Blood in which the main character, Daniel Plainview,in order to get on the good side of a corrupt preacher, first must admit in front of the congregation that Plainview has abandoned his son. Why Roberts thinks un-scientific and disrespectable economists should take the advice of a fellow un-scientific and disrespectable economist I do not know.

In general, I feel that Russ Roberts falls flat in the article precisely because he offers no respect to those he doesn't already think deserve it. If you come to the article agreeing with him, then you're fine. But if you come to it disagreeing with him, or remain somewhat unconvinced at the end, then he doesn't seem interested in your opinion anyway. Roberts isn't alone in this; he essentially is the Right-Wing counterpart of Paul Krugman: both bring up interesting topics, but in the end only manage to preach to the converted.

Teaching Philosophy

What follows was written for an award application I turned in last week. In order to prove how awesome I am, they wanted to see a statement of my teaching philosophy, and I have no idea if this was the kind of thing they were looking for. At the very least, it was probably not something they've seen before.



Students are in the process of becoming who they will be for the rest of their lives. Although they sometimes don't realize who that is yet, I believe this means they should be shown the dignity of who they are and are becoming all the same. First and foremost, my students are adults. They have chosen to attend my classes, whether at the guidance of parents and councelors or at their own discretion. As a teacher, I want how I teach to be shaped by the goals the students have when they make this choice. As an economist, I know that these goals really fall into three broad categories: consumption, productivity, and signaling.

Students might be in my classes because they think it will be fun. Maybe they see economics coursework as part of the ``college experience.'' Perhaps they've noticed that economics comes up in every nightly news broadcast, or that every political and business decision has an economic element they'd like to know more about. In any case, some students come to my classes purely for their own enjoyment, information, and satisfaction; they've come to consume economics. What these students really want out of the course is real world examples, something that connects the abstract essence of economic thinking to the complex experience of life. They want me to be honest when I'm simplifying reality, and they want me to tell them when what we talk about is a good guide to understanding the world and when it's not.

Beyond their own enjoyment, students might actually come to college to learn something, to make themselves more productive. They want to improve their thinking skills so that they'll make better employees and better employers after they graduate. They are hoping that what they learn from me will help them get better, higher-paying jobs, and retain those jobs over time. These are the students who want to see how decisions are made, how to compare costs and benefits, and what sort of factors they need to consider when dealing with problems. They want to be able to look at a situation and understand not only which things they can see are really important, but also what important considerations may remain unseen. The theoretical building blocks of economics help these students translate bewildering real world problems into intellectually managable models. And of course, they need to translate the answers the models give back into real world solutions.

Finally, some students are already a cut above the rest. What these students really want is to be able to prove their skill, to signal to the job market their true abilities. They take economics courses because they're challenging. They hate grade inflation because it makes it harder for them to demonstrate their talent and effort. What these students need the most from me is honest grading and rigorous academic standards. They want me to expect a lot from them, because they know they have a lot to give. They want an A in Principles of Microeconomics to mean something.

Of course, the students I've outlined above are an abstraction from reality. Most students are motivated by a mixture of the three, and they may not even be sure which ones matter to them the most. I need to provide all of the benefits to all of my students, and let the individuals sort out which parts are most useful to them. Many students aren't thinking these things about my class as much as they are about their entire program of study, so I need to keep in mind what their backgrounds are like and where they plan to go after my course is over. But by beginning with these principles, I believe I can respect the interests and desires of my students and provide them with the education they are really looking for.

Truth Claim of the Day

Nature is not as rational (or should we say "simple") as we might like it to be. Nor is monotheism... 
Please feel free to comment. The context is an interesting post at Enchanted Postmodern.

Your Esteemed Author Is Officially...

 
That is all.

The Sonnschein Pipe

So, at this point you may have noticed the new header image. I enjoy estate pipes (my collection is currently sitting at 15 pipes), and this particular one, the latest addition, has a fascinating story behind it.

The pipe has metal fittings and a hinged cap, and is quite large. There's no stem, which I might remedy at some point, but I don't really mind. I don't plan to smoke this one.

You see, this pipe is around 200 years old. Inside the bowl there is a note that reads as follows:

'this Pipe was given to my grandfather (born 1811) William Sonnschein, and he said it was given him by his grandfather so that would make this pipe at least 150 years old (in 1910)
     Frank Eckert  --- grandson of William Sonnschein
Note initials on silver lid "A.S"'

I received this pipe as a gift from my wife's grandmother, who had received it from her grandfather, Frank Eckert. According to the note, he received it from his grandfather William Sonnschein, who received it from his own grandfather (presumably the "A.S." of the initials). So while I don't quite follow the math that dates the pipe to the 1760s, it's still been in the family since Jessie's great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather. Which is pretty great.

So I'd seen this at Jessie's grandmother's house before, and I was an instant fan. She's been downsizing her possessions, and I jokingly told her that if no one had spoken for the pipe I'd throw my name in. I felt kinda bad when she actually decided to give it to me, as I had sort of thought she would want to keep it as decoration until she dies (I know I would). But at this point I'm just grateful. It might be the oldest thing we own (I have a couple of ill-repaired 19th century Bibles, and one of them was published in 1811), and is definitely the piece I would take with me to the Antiques Roadshow. It's similar in shape to the Hungarian meerschaum-style metal pile found here (3rd down), although the lid is simpler on the Sonnschein pipe. It's simply classy, which is how we role at Metadoxy.

By the way, all photos, including the header, were taken by the magnificent and ever-professional Jessie. For more examples of her handiwork, check out here Etsy shop.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

What makes a good story can be learned from a good sandwich. The bread is the plot: it holds everything else together, and without it there is no sandwich. It can range in quality from wonderbread to a nice focaccia from Panera or beyond. But if the bread is what's filling you up or giving the sandwich flavor, you're doing it wrong. Similarly with a good story, you need fascinating ideas to explore (the meat), characters you care about and identify with (cheese), good dialogue (dressing), and great artistry and atmosphere all around (the veggies).

The point of this allegory is that I recently decided to Netflix a number of movies I've been meaning to see for years, but never got around to. One of the first of these is The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, a silent film from 1920. Dr. Caligari was one of the first horror movies and one of the first to employ a twist ending, mostly because it was one of the first movies ever made.

The story is pretty straightforward by  today's standards. The mysterious Dr. Caligari brings his sideshow attraction, the somnambulist Cesare, to an exhibition / fair in a small town. Our hero, Francis, and his friend Alan go to see the show, and Cesare predicts that Alan will not live to see the morning, a prediction which ultimately comes true. A murder mystery! (not that mysterious) The twist ending is somewhat telegraphed, but only because this movie was so influential that it's been reused about 5,000 times by now. Suffice it to say that in the German Expressionist world of deep shadows and crooked doorways, not everything is as it appears.



But the plot isn't what makes this movie work, and it's certainly not the characters, who are all fairly one-dimensional. What makes this movie so influential is (to use my allegory) the vegetables. It's precisely the crooked doorways, twisting paths, and general visual aesthetics (plus some pretty creepy music) that have made this one of the most influential movies of all time. For example, I had always wondered why Tim Burton's version of Batman's enemy The Penguin (from 1992's Batman Returns) looked so jacked up freaky. After the first appearance of the character Dr. Caligari, I instantly thought "he looks kinda like Tim Burton's Penguin... Ooooh!" Actually, a lot of Tim Burton's work is influenced by German Expressionism in general, and by Dr. Caligari in particular. Remember the movie Edward Scissorhands? While Edward's leather costume is reminiscent of something else, his overall look is very much like Cesare, who is also a sympathetic, childlike, and somewhat haplessly destructive character.



So I liked the movie. I'd recommend it to anyone who wants to see how a good story can be propelled with lots of atmosphere and a minimum of dialogue. I'm not a big fan of expressionism, but the ability of a movie like this to draw the viewer in (despite all the technical limitations) is impressive. The directors of our modern summer blockbusters would do well to take a few notes from director Robert Wiene's notebook.

 

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