****
I have decided that we're all just a little shallow - preferring the slightly witty and the terminally inane to deeply considered and thoughtful commentary on the human condition. Except you, of course, dear reader. You are a paragon of thoughtful consideration, accurate analysis and don't mind my meanderings round the less savoury realities of economics.
But this shallowness of others (it's a bit like those who, despite being wholly unaffected by advertising, call for controls because the poor uneducated proles will be taken in and made to buy bad stuff like pop, crisps and fast cars) is really rather important. Not because there's a school of economic thinking ('behavioural economics' these folk like to call it) that likes to argue that, far from being rational and incentive-driven beasts, humans are emotion-driven and irrational. As ever with hypothesis-derived, evidence-light economics our dear old friends at the New Economics Foundation are there with the behaviour stuff - anything to have a dig at incentives I guess (even when there's a paucity of solid evidence supporting the jolly hypothesis that we aren't all selfish, greedy bastards after all).
But I digress - shallowness is everything and shallowness is good. Not, of course for us dear reader, even though we don't read the Guardian and know everything about everything as a result. What shallowness is about is a realisation of the utter cosmic futility of what we each do with our lives - an idea that eludes Guardian-reading statists (perhaps the only thing they share with Zaphod Beeblebrox). And if it's futile, why shouldn't we pass our time with idle pursuits - watching silly games on the telly, laughing at crap jokes, shortening our lives by drinking, smoking and scoffing luscious fat-laden goodies and generally not being in the slightest bit serious about it all.
So if I'd rather sit in the shed, bottle of whisky in one hand, Romeo y Juliet in the other and watch re-runs of Benny Hill on the little portable telly that's my business and, as importantly, is as significant an act as the activist's endless mobilising and organising, the political hack's leaflet distribution or the lefty academic's discussion about how they would organise it so much better than the uncontrolled actions of individuals would ever achieve (if only you'd give them the chance).
Just because "people-who-know-better-than-us" say we're shallow, selfish and will die young doesn't make our actions irrational. In truth our selfish behaviour is rational and, when we engage in communal or collective activity, that's rational too. Those who deny rationality to argue that decision-making is somehow tripped by emotional triggers are the same people who believed "The Hidden Persuaders" and that the medium is the message.
And the word for such people is....wrong.
....
Showing posts with label rational behaviour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rational behaviour. Show all posts
Thursday, 1 July 2010
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Fuzzy boundaries, rational behaviour, rule-breaking and Laws
****
As the newspapers and airwaves are dominated by another example of a politician interpreting expenses rules rather creatively, I thought I would join in with the Great David Laws furore. Not to make a judgment as to whether he should resign, should abase himself before the public or have fifty lashes with the cat o’ nine tails, but to ask a broader question about rules and why we break them.
In doing this I am minded of the fact that we all break rules – sometimes because we don’t like them or agree with them but mostly because either we believe we will get away with our transgression or else the likely punishment is too minor to be a real concern to us. I recall being told of how, outside a certain school, a particular car was ticketed (for parking right outside the gates, on double yellow lines, on a corner within a set of traffic lights) time and time again. In the end, a policeman spoke to the woman as she parked and was told ‘oh, just give me a ticket, my husband will pay it.’
In this case the woman opted to take the consequences of parking closer to the school gates. She saw it as worthwhile – an affordable risk – and behaved accordingly. In a similar manner we (or most of us) routinely break speed limits and trim the edges of a host of other regulatory constraints (tell me you’ve never driven the short hop from the corner shop to home without putting on your seatbelt). The chances of getting caught are very small and – in most cases – the consequences that follow being caught are also small.
Apply this to other circumstances in life – have you ever been given a blank receipt by a taxi driver? What about that insurance claim – how creative were you? And what about sneaking an unwanted letter back into the bag while playing scrabble? I could go on listing examples – petty and not so petty – of how we are surrounded by the temptation of rule-breaking. Indeed some folk take the view that it is perfectly OK to be entirely selective as to which rules to abide by and which rules to ignore.
Partly, all this is a plea to take heed of Christ’s advice in Matt 7:5 (remove the log from your own eye and you’ll see more clearly to remove the mote from your brother’s) but mostly it’s to understand that like everything else, our attitude to rules is entirely rational. Rule-breaking is perfectly normal, rational behaviour – it must be because we all break rules and many of us do so every day. At the same time, our irritation, annoyance or even anger at the rule-breaking of others is also rational behaviour. Plus of course our insistence that rules are tightened, punishments lifted and transgressors exposed.
Rules serve one of two purposes – they enforce equality (by which I don’t mean modern “equalities” but rather that rules ensure we all play the same game – that our engagement with society is ‘fair’) or they allow control. In recent times we have seen a significant sub-set of laws for control – the use of regulation to ‘change behaviour’. In general we place greater importance on laws of equality since these are the laws that protect us and our property. These laws enjoy overwhelming support and their breach is seen as a very serious matter.
Rules of control, however, are less likely to enjoy overwhelming support as they are about governing our behaviour rather than regulating the game. We also (and this is reflected in punishments) see the boundaries of these laws in very fuzzy terms being willing to forgive less significant transgression under some circumstances. This brings with it the risk of arbitrariness – on the agency charged with enforcement acting inconsistently. While there’s no evidence of police bias against red cars, you are more likely to be stopped by the police if you are black and many enforcement decisions are based on value judgments made by officers – all this is evidence of inconsistency. And, as rational actors in this game, we do not like inconsistency since it means we cannot know if the rules of equality apply. Yet we acquiesce in fuzzy applications – we see it as OK for the copper to let the woman off a speeding fine but to slap the full fine on the boy racer who commits the same offence.
And, of course, where there is expectation of leniency there is a greater incentive to break the rules. Look, for example, at the relatively benign world of fines for overstaying in a car park. Even where the risk is considerable (a substantial charge to remove a wheel clamp) people routinely believe that the “I was only a couple of minutes late” argument will work. But look at it from the operator’s perspective and such fuzziness is not rational – enforcing the time is entirely sensible as the alternative is to have space that is occupied but not income-generating.
For public enforcement agencies, on the other hand, fuzziness gives power. The ability of the copper to stop or not stop, charge or not charge is central to their authority – these choices are exercises of arbitrary power. If officers simply enforced the letter of the law, their power would be constrained entirely by what is says in that law. Whereas we allow fuzzy edges to decision-making – call it discretion - you move the power away from the law and onto the individual officer.
Which brings us back to David Laws – because the administration of MPs expenses was deliberately vague, we have a system where fuzzy boundaries allowed for arbitrary and contradictory decisions. And now, with a new regime, it’s become like the attractive woman stopped by the gay cop – all the usual eyelash fluttering and cleavage revelation has no effect. She gets the ticket. Under the regime that existed before, Mr Laws’ behaviour was entirely rational – today with clear boundaries of permission, such behaviour is not rational.
....
Update: It seems that David Laws has resigned - which shows he has a little bit of class in my judgment. In doing this we see once again the triumph of the prurient and of those who merely seek political advantage from others mistakes. I ask whether those baying loudest for his head on a platter are so very innocent - or are they just the same but so far fortunate enough not to get caught.
....
As the newspapers and airwaves are dominated by another example of a politician interpreting expenses rules rather creatively, I thought I would join in with the Great David Laws furore. Not to make a judgment as to whether he should resign, should abase himself before the public or have fifty lashes with the cat o’ nine tails, but to ask a broader question about rules and why we break them.
In doing this I am minded of the fact that we all break rules – sometimes because we don’t like them or agree with them but mostly because either we believe we will get away with our transgression or else the likely punishment is too minor to be a real concern to us. I recall being told of how, outside a certain school, a particular car was ticketed (for parking right outside the gates, on double yellow lines, on a corner within a set of traffic lights) time and time again. In the end, a policeman spoke to the woman as she parked and was told ‘oh, just give me a ticket, my husband will pay it.’
In this case the woman opted to take the consequences of parking closer to the school gates. She saw it as worthwhile – an affordable risk – and behaved accordingly. In a similar manner we (or most of us) routinely break speed limits and trim the edges of a host of other regulatory constraints (tell me you’ve never driven the short hop from the corner shop to home without putting on your seatbelt). The chances of getting caught are very small and – in most cases – the consequences that follow being caught are also small.
Apply this to other circumstances in life – have you ever been given a blank receipt by a taxi driver? What about that insurance claim – how creative were you? And what about sneaking an unwanted letter back into the bag while playing scrabble? I could go on listing examples – petty and not so petty – of how we are surrounded by the temptation of rule-breaking. Indeed some folk take the view that it is perfectly OK to be entirely selective as to which rules to abide by and which rules to ignore.
Partly, all this is a plea to take heed of Christ’s advice in Matt 7:5 (remove the log from your own eye and you’ll see more clearly to remove the mote from your brother’s) but mostly it’s to understand that like everything else, our attitude to rules is entirely rational. Rule-breaking is perfectly normal, rational behaviour – it must be because we all break rules and many of us do so every day. At the same time, our irritation, annoyance or even anger at the rule-breaking of others is also rational behaviour. Plus of course our insistence that rules are tightened, punishments lifted and transgressors exposed.
Rules serve one of two purposes – they enforce equality (by which I don’t mean modern “equalities” but rather that rules ensure we all play the same game – that our engagement with society is ‘fair’) or they allow control. In recent times we have seen a significant sub-set of laws for control – the use of regulation to ‘change behaviour’. In general we place greater importance on laws of equality since these are the laws that protect us and our property. These laws enjoy overwhelming support and their breach is seen as a very serious matter.
Rules of control, however, are less likely to enjoy overwhelming support as they are about governing our behaviour rather than regulating the game. We also (and this is reflected in punishments) see the boundaries of these laws in very fuzzy terms being willing to forgive less significant transgression under some circumstances. This brings with it the risk of arbitrariness – on the agency charged with enforcement acting inconsistently. While there’s no evidence of police bias against red cars, you are more likely to be stopped by the police if you are black and many enforcement decisions are based on value judgments made by officers – all this is evidence of inconsistency. And, as rational actors in this game, we do not like inconsistency since it means we cannot know if the rules of equality apply. Yet we acquiesce in fuzzy applications – we see it as OK for the copper to let the woman off a speeding fine but to slap the full fine on the boy racer who commits the same offence.
And, of course, where there is expectation of leniency there is a greater incentive to break the rules. Look, for example, at the relatively benign world of fines for overstaying in a car park. Even where the risk is considerable (a substantial charge to remove a wheel clamp) people routinely believe that the “I was only a couple of minutes late” argument will work. But look at it from the operator’s perspective and such fuzziness is not rational – enforcing the time is entirely sensible as the alternative is to have space that is occupied but not income-generating.
For public enforcement agencies, on the other hand, fuzziness gives power. The ability of the copper to stop or not stop, charge or not charge is central to their authority – these choices are exercises of arbitrary power. If officers simply enforced the letter of the law, their power would be constrained entirely by what is says in that law. Whereas we allow fuzzy edges to decision-making – call it discretion - you move the power away from the law and onto the individual officer.
Which brings us back to David Laws – because the administration of MPs expenses was deliberately vague, we have a system where fuzzy boundaries allowed for arbitrary and contradictory decisions. And now, with a new regime, it’s become like the attractive woman stopped by the gay cop – all the usual eyelash fluttering and cleavage revelation has no effect. She gets the ticket. Under the regime that existed before, Mr Laws’ behaviour was entirely rational – today with clear boundaries of permission, such behaviour is not rational.
....
Update: It seems that David Laws has resigned - which shows he has a little bit of class in my judgment. In doing this we see once again the triumph of the prurient and of those who merely seek political advantage from others mistakes. I ask whether those baying loudest for his head on a platter are so very innocent - or are they just the same but so far fortunate enough not to get caught.
....
Monday, 15 March 2010
Could not voting be rational behaviour?
***
As you all know I’ve talked quite a lot about the question of non-participation in our lovely political system. Indeed, I have praised the good idiots who will get on with their lives unhindered and unembarrassed by not having voted. I’ve also argued that the coming election will see turnout fall still further from the levels of 2001 and 2005.
So it was with some delight that I stumbled across (or rather that Bastard Old Holborn stumbled across to be fair) this programme from BBC Scotland. Is not voting a rational choice asks the programme:
It seems to me that the rational argument for not voting extends even further than just not bothering in a safe seat. It must apply where the voter calculates that their vote will not – under whatever circumstances – achieve the change they desire. There is clearly a rational case for not voting if – as is believed by many electors – there is little difference between the parties. Why should somebody waste even 15 minutes of their time voting when the outcome will be the same regardless of that vote? And this applies whether the voter’s expected outcome is positive, negative or neutral.
The only rational case for voting is where the effect of the vote has the prospect of either securing or preventing change. Where someone expects everything or nothing to change as a result of putting a cross in a box, there is little point in toddling down to the village hall or school. Now, since my MP is (much of the time) a rare voice of sanity in a world of robot-like apparatchiks, I will be voting to prevent change (i.e. to keep him there).
....
As you all know I’ve talked quite a lot about the question of non-participation in our lovely political system. Indeed, I have praised the good idiots who will get on with their lives unhindered and unembarrassed by not having voted. I’ve also argued that the coming election will see turnout fall still further from the levels of 2001 and 2005.
So it was with some delight that I stumbled across (or rather that Bastard Old Holborn stumbled across to be fair) this programme from BBC Scotland. Is not voting a rational choice asks the programme:
"Professor James Mitchell of Strathclyde University's department of government says that, in certain circumstances, not voting may be the rational choice.
It may well be that, now that duty is in decline, people think rationally 'is it worthwhile voting?' And I suspect that for at least a part of the electorate that they calculate it's just not worth bothering.
Not least because in most constituencies, even in years when you get big shifts in public opinion and a big shift in the numbers of MPs, the majority of seats just don't change hands."
It seems to me that the rational argument for not voting extends even further than just not bothering in a safe seat. It must apply where the voter calculates that their vote will not – under whatever circumstances – achieve the change they desire. There is clearly a rational case for not voting if – as is believed by many electors – there is little difference between the parties. Why should somebody waste even 15 minutes of their time voting when the outcome will be the same regardless of that vote? And this applies whether the voter’s expected outcome is positive, negative or neutral.
The only rational case for voting is where the effect of the vote has the prospect of either securing or preventing change. Where someone expects everything or nothing to change as a result of putting a cross in a box, there is little point in toddling down to the village hall or school. Now, since my MP is (much of the time) a rare voice of sanity in a world of robot-like apparatchiks, I will be voting to prevent change (i.e. to keep him there).
....
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