How business lost its influence on right wing parties

This covers ground which others may be more knowledgeable about, so please let me know of any references or sources that I really should read that cover issues central to the discussion below.

When Trump threatens governments that want to tax tech giants, most of which are based in the US, it seems like the familiar story of governments acting in the interest of business. But when Trump imposes tariffs on imports he may be favouring particular firms, but he is also acting against the interests of US trading firms in general.

Brexit is a much more potent example. Brexit is clearly not in the interests of firms that trade. Because Brexit makes the economy as a whole poorer there are not many firms who support it. Boris Johnson, when asked about concerns from business about a hard Brexit, is reported as saying “f*** business”, and following some comments by the new Chancellor, Chris Grey speculates whether “f*** business” is now government policy.

It wasn’t always like this. David Edgerton writes that

“After the second world war, such captains of industry avoided the Commons, but the Conservative party was without question the party of capital and property, one which stood against the party of organised labour.”

That changed after Thatcher, as she reduced the power of trade unions, and Labour began distancing itself from them. Another development that I think began with Thatcher, and is particularly evident in the UK, is a lack of concern about who owns large firms. The importance of this should not be overstated: the ONS estimated that in 2012 just 1% of non-financial firms were foreign-owned, but these firms were large so around a third of value-added was accounted for by foreign owner firms. I suspect the proportion is higher still in the traded sector. But that still leaves plenty of important UK owned firms.

Another important point, and a difference from the US, is that joining the EU meant the UK was no longer in charge of trade negotiations. This ended the extensive and direct contacts between the UK traded goods sector and government that you find in countries not part of the EU. However links between the financial sector and the UK government are strong and effective. In contrast as the financial sector expanded, its links with domestic businesses became less important.

Finally another important development that followed from the Thatcher period was the reduction in taxation of top incomes. This particularly benefited high earners in the financial sector, but it also spread to most CEOs of large companies. According to Piketty, Saez and Stantcheva, this encouraged in the UK and US an explosion in executive pay, distancing the 0.01% or 0.001% of extremely rich individuals from everyone else. This involves the managers of business extracting rent from the business itself. Although this explosion happened in the 1980/90s, the cash increase in remuneration (including bonuses etc) for the median FTSE 100 CEO between 2009 and 2017 increased by 76% to £3.9 million. There are no signs of it ending. 

This meant that CEOs spoke in the interests of both the companies they ran, but also in the interests of very rich individuals like themselves. Before the 2015 UK general election, one of the main concerns of business about a possible Labour government was a potential tax on expensive homes! This helps dilute the pressure business can exert on right wing governments, if those governments make it clear that they will always stand up for the very rich. In 2017 Labour’s campaign slogan was ‘for the many not the few’, so of course the few will always support the Tory party, even when it was making life much more difficult for business. Tax cuts for the wealthy are now a key part of any Republican programme.

In these senses neoliberalism (aka what happened during and after Thatcher and Reagan) created the conditions that helped diminish the direct influence of business on the dominant right wing party in the UK and US, and therefore for much of the time the UK and US state. This was my thinking when I wrote

“Rent extractors naturally seek political defences to preserve their wealth, and the mechanisms that sets in place may not embody any sense of morality, leading to the grotesque spectacle of Republican lawmakers depriving huge numbers of health insurance to be able to cut taxes for those at the top.”

It also means that the finance any party of the right needs can come from money and those that manage business (and extract rent from it), and that can be divorced from the interests of business. This was part of my thinking in talking of a governing plutocracy, and writing:

“It is also a mistake to see this plutocracy as designed to support capital. This should again be obvious from Brexit and Trump. It is in capital’s interest to have borders open to goods and people rather than creating barriers and erecting walls.”

Could a more vocal attack on Brexit by businesses have influenced the vote? It is not clear, because everything is mediated through a largely partisan press and an 'opinions differ' broadcast media. However I think the distinction between the interests of the wealthy and domestic business is important, and goes well beyond an opposition between financial and non-financial firms.

Left behind movements do not just reflect deindustrialisation, but also geography, inequality and lack of representation.

There was extensive analysis after the UK EU referendum of the characteristics of those who voted for Brexit and those who didn’t. A robust finding was that those who voted for Brexit tended to be older and had less years of education. But some noted a link between a tendency to vote Leave and areas of deindustrialisation. The idea of the ‘left behind’ was born. It gained force when rest-belt states in the US swung to Trump in the same year.

This characterisation of the left behind was attractive to many on the left, who have been critical of the globalisation they saw as the cause. Yet as Martin Sandbu points out, the period of what is often called hyper-globalisation is the 1990s, and much deindustrialisation occurred before then. Some of that was a result of automation rather than globalisation, and in the UK 1980s deindustrialisation was hastened by a large appreciation of sterling caused by a combination of discovering North Sea Oil and monetarism. Why the 30 year delay for the left behind to finally find its political voice?

If we look at the geography of the Brexit vote, areas of deindustrialisation is not the only thing that strikes you. Much more obvious is that people in large cities voted against Brexit, and those in smaller cities or towns or the countryside voted for Brexit. The same was true for Trump, and Trumps core support comes from rural areas. Is this simply a consequence of differences in age and education already discussed?

It could well be. As the Centre for Towns showed, UK villages and towns have been getting older and cities have been getting younger. Jobs that attract the university educated tend to be in cities rather than in towns and villages.The old tend to be more socially conservative, and so are attracted to the anti-immigration message that was a key part of the Leave and Trump campaigns.

There is no doubt these factors are important, but do they explain all the the geographical nature of the support for Brexit and Trump, or is there more to it? I think the gilet jaunes from France can shed some light on this question. As John Lichfield outlines, the gilet jaunes come from peripheral France: the outer suburbs and countryside. That may include some areas of deindustrialisation but it goes well beyond that. Their protests are self-organised and remarkably persistent. They do not fit any clear left/right categorisation. Immigration, or race, are not high up among their concerns, which is why they do not feel represented by the far right party of Marine Le Pen.

What do the gilet jaunes want? Specific demands are varied and often contradictory. But a dominant theme is that they want to be valued and represented. They feel that the centres of power in France, the government but also other organisations, do not speak for or even respect them. They think the major cities are getting all the benefits of growth while they are falling behind.

The gilet jaunes tend to be working or lower middle class, sometimes self-employed, sometimes retired. Initially their protests were sympathetically viewed by most French voters, which was one reason why Macron responded with tax breaks for pensioners and low income workers. As time goes on and the violence has continued their popularity among French voters has waned. Whether they have a future as a coherent force may depend on whether they can transform themselves into a conventional political group that wins seats in the forthcoming European elections, a process which has already led to some fragmentation along traditional left/right lines.

Macron’s election as President of France had led many to think that the wave of populism influencing democracies around the world could be held back or even beaten. What the gilet jaunes show is that this cannot be done just by electing a charismatic President. Indeed the character of Macron, clearly part of an affluent city elite, may even have been a provocation.

Can the gilet jaunes tell us anything about those who voted for Brexit or Trump? All three movements come from outside of the main cities, so perhaps geography is more than just an incidental factor. What is unique about the gilet jaunes has been self-organisation, made possible through social media, and the variety of their political demands. In contrast Trump is a Republican, and Brexit is a very specific cause. But perhaps this difference just reflects the ability of some politicians and parts of the media to capture the discontent of the geographical areas that feel left behind?

The EU was not considered an important issue among most voters until the referendum. Immigration was, but a good part of that was because the government and press had managed to deflect anger at declining public services and wages on to immigrants rather than their own policies. Whereas the gilet jaunes had to organise themselves using social media, Brexit and to some extent Trump had sections of the conventional media to do that job. While many gilet jaunes want to overturn the government, Brexit supporters succeeded because they had the help of politicians and the media.

Underlying causes in all three cases include geographical and financial inequality, and a feeling of being ignored by conventional politics. In the UK, looking mainly at the first decade of the century, a NEF report found that nearly all of the 20 fastest growing constituencies were in cities. Often the prosperity of towns depends on the success or otherwise of a nearby city. Those in the periphery see money going to projects like crossrail or HS2 while local bus services are cut.

People look at others to measure their own prosperity but they also look at their own past. In the UK real wages are still below levels before the financial crisis, and in the last year the disparity between the incomes of most people and those at the top of the income distribution has started to increase again. (It is one reason why the Chancellor is getting more tax receipts than he expected.) In the US most of the proceeds of growth have for some time been going to the top of the income distribution.

We can see the same thing, although to a lesser degree, in France. Here is a revealing graph from a study by Thomas Piketty and colleagues. It shows how average annual growth rates of pre-tax income has varied by where people are in the income distribution over three time periods. To the right we have the richer income deciles, including at the end the top 1%, 0.1% and 0.01% respectively. In the two periods before the 1980s incomes at the top grew less rapidly than all other groups. From 1983 to 2014 the opposite has been true: growth rates of top incomes have been up to three times those of everyone else. In addition the growth rate of incomes of the non-rich have been historically low.

Low average growth in most incomes together with much faster growth in incomes at the top is provocative, particularly if you are in parts of the country that are stagnating with few prospects. I do not think it is any coincidence that a week ago we saw the gilet jaunes targeting the exclusive shops and restaurants of the Champs-Élysées.

Inequality based on incomes or geography is not enough to get the gilet jaunes on to the streets, to get UK voters to want to take back control, or Trump voters to vote for the worst President in a century. This also requires a feeling that your voice is not heard in the political process. In the UK a feeling of powerlessness was hijacked by politicians and the press who pretended it was a result of the EU, or in the US by Trump who pretended to speak for ‘real America’.

Speaking up for those left behind should naturally be something parties on the left do. Yet in the UK, as the NEF report shows, Labour have been increasing their vote share in dynamic cities and the Conservatives from areas in decline. This may be part of a longer term trend in both the UK, US and France, where the left party that once represented the less educated now is the party of the educated. The chart below taken from another study by Piketty shows this trend, which he calls it the emergence of the “Brahmin Left”.

Yet I think this alone is an incomplete explanation. To explain recent developments we should add the adoption by traditional left parties of a neoliberal framework which discouraged regional, industrial and redisributive policies that might have transferred more of the benefits of city dynamism to the periphery. That created a left behind that went beyond areas of deindustrialisation, that felt unrepresented and deprived, and which in the UK and US was open to capture by a populist right.

How the left stopped being a party of the working class

I’ve been meaning for some time to write about a recent paper by Thomas Piketty, which looks at what characteristics influenced voters to vote for the left or right in France, the UK and US since WWII. (Simon Kuper has a nice little summary with a great title.) Here is a chart that shows how after WWII educated voters tended to vote right, but now tend to vote left (even after controlling for income, age etc - see box)

In all three countries, the number of educated voters increased in all three countries, reflecting in part the need for higher skilled workers.

In contrast (and if we exclude the most recent elections in France and the US) the income profile for voting has not changed very much over time: poorer voters are more likely to vote left than richer voters, particularly if we control for education, although poorer voters are increasingly unlikely to vote. So the shift in voting patterns among educated voters demands an explanation and has fascinating implications.

Unfortunately the paper does not focus on this question, but it does suggest that part of any explanation may reflect the fact that more educated voters tend to have more liberal attitudes in general, and more liberal attitudes to migration in particular (see here for example). The positive correlation between social liberalisation and education is well documented (see [1] for example), as was evident in the Brexit vote.

I suspect there are other factors as well. There are possible reasons why the interest of human capital (as economists would call it) are different from the interests of business or financial capital, or no capital at all. For example a more meritocratic education system suits them better than one where income buys education, so they are likely to be stronger supporters of a state based education system (or indeed they may be part of it). They will also be more likely to consume state subsidised culture. More generally there may be a wish to break down traditional class based networks and replace them with more meritocratic structures. On the other hand because human capital generates an income, they will be less keen on tax based redistribution than workers. All this may create what some might call an education ‘cleavage’.

The implication for parties on the left are that party members were increasingly from the educated middle class rather than working class, and this has gradually changed the structure, platforms and leaders of left parties. Together with the decline in trade unions, the counterpart to this will be a less visible representation of the working class. Piketty describes this as the emergence of the “Brahmin Left” elite, which can be compared to the “Merchant” elite on the right.

A consequence may be that the political elite as a whole becomes less interested in redistributive policies that used to favour the working classes, and helped continue the decline in wealth inequality before the 1980s that Piketty has famously documented elsewhere. That in turn makes it easier for the right to capture parts of the working class vote, particularly when these voters have socially conservative views. A recent book by Mark Bovens and Anchrit Wille takes a very dim view of these changes.

There is a less pessimistic take on all this. As right wing parties have increasingly relied on pushing socially conservative/authoritarian/anti-minority policies to gain votes, left wing parties find that this combined with wealth/income protection is an unbeatable coalition for their opponents. (Perhaps this helps explain the decline in so many centre-left European parties.) The only way to beat that coalition is to rediscover economic policies that help the working class.

This long paper has other interesting results. In France, like the UK, public attitudes have seen a decreasing hostility to immigration over time. He also notes that the right’s socially conservative turn has helped to sustain an almost complete loyalty to the left from Muslims in the UK and France, and from blacks in the US. Finally a parochial point of interest, which is also a point that Torsten Bell has stressed recently.

Piketty notes that the dominance of the left among the young in the UK in 2017, as well as being unprecedented in the UK, was higher than in any of the two other countries at any point in time. It may be that this is part of a trend since 1997, but it could be exceptional because of Brexit, which amounts to the old taking opportunities away from the young.

[1] Education-based group identity and consciousness in the authoritarian-libertarian value conflict. / Stubager, Rune. In: European Journal of Political Research, Vol. 48, No. 2, 2009. .

Why was economics so insular?

Noah Smith has a good piece on what seems like the never ending stream of popular articles in the UK slagging off economics (or economists). Here I outlined three potential reasons for this epidemic: people do not understand unconditional macro forecasts, politicians from the right do not like economists spoiling their pet schemes (e.g. Brexit), and many heterodox economists from the left wage endless war against the mainstream. All these complaints get airtime when the economy is bad.

The UK economy, right now, is perhaps in a worse state than at any time in the last eighty years. As John Lewis shows in this Bank blog, productivity growth has perhaps never been as bad as it is now: we have to go back to before 1800 to find anything comparable.

The natural reaction when the economy is bad is to criticise economists. That was what happened after the Global Financial Crisis, with some justification. But what is happening in the UK right now is mainly a result of first austerity and then Brexit. As I explained in detail in my earlier post, if we had followed the advice of mainstream economics austerity and Brexit would not have happened. [1] I have as yet not read a single critique of economics that has pointed that fact out, which if you think about it is extraordinary.

There is a little more to say about why economics is an easy target. Historically it has been very insular, and in this respect quite unlike other social sciences. I have already discussed the paper by Haldane and Turrell in the OXREP Rebuilding Macroeconomic Theory volume on Agent Based Models, but I did not have space to show an interesting chart from the introduction to that paper.

It tracks citations in papers to those in other disciplines. Until around 2000, there was no doubt which was the most insular discipline: economics. This is no surprise to me and I suspect most social scientists.

The paper does not explore the reasons why economics is so self-referential: their aim is simply to suggest that it needs to look to other disciplines to see what methods they use. Here I want to sketch why I think mainstream economics (and here the qualification mainstream is required) is so insular.

I once gave a lecture course on the methodology of economics, and in one lecture I used a large blackboard to describe how nearly all economics can be derived from the basic axioms of rational choice. For example the modern macroeconomics of consumption is just the choice between buying apples or pears transformed to the choice between consumption at different times. In that sense economic theory is like an immense tree, where every branch deductively builds on this core. Sometimes large branches grow by adding new elements, like asymmetric information, which then becomes part of the tree and can be used by other branches. This deductive tree of economic theory did not grow all by itself: its growth was and is influenced by the real world problems it wanted to address.

In using the idea of explaining decisions by optimising welfare under constraints economists have created a whole series of widely applicable tools. Economists naturally think about opportunity costs, adverse selection, moral hazard, incentives etc. There is something distinctive about thinking like an economist. To say, as Tom Clark does here, that sometimes this is just formalising common knowledge may be true (see also Cahal Moran here), but in many cases it is not. Try persuading someone who has invested in what is now a sub-optimal project about sunk costs.

This body of theory includes the neoclassical economics that heterodox economists and others love to hate, but it also includes game theory that has applications well beyond economics, and more. In my first year of studying economics I was told in some lectures that this whole endeavour was a huge ideologically driven misstep, but I began to see it differently after reading this famous 1963 paper by Arrow. It shows why (asymmetric) uncertainty in the health service means that the standard competitive model just cannot work for medical care. That may be obvious to us in the UK but it appears otherwise to many in the US. To be fair Clark also acknowledges that this economic theory has produced positive successes: he mentions auction theory but there are many more.

As to ideology, if you want an effective critique of neoliberalism you have to use economics (see, for example Colin Crouch’s book on neoliberalism or this by Dani Rodrik). So many critiques of economics use a kind of bastardised version that insists that workers are always paid their marginal products that the political right also employs. But monopoly and monopsony power are also part of the deductive tree. A paper I like to refer to in this context is by Piketty, Saez and Stantcheva (discussed here) which uses a simple bargaining model to show how cutting the top rate of tax can increase pre-tax CEO pay.

There is nothing like this deductive tree in other social sciences, and I think it at least partly explains why economics used to be so insular. As non-economists academics seemed to add little to building on this theory, there seemed little point in collaborating or even citing them. But, from the point of view of other disciplines, it was worse than that. Economics could also be imperialistic. Its methods, both theoretical and empirical, could be applied to other fields (with varying degrees of success): here is David Hendry applying his econometric methods to climate change, for example. So not only did economists not talk much to other social sciences, they trod on toes as well.

But although there may still be important branches to be added [2], the limitations of what you can do with a few axioms about rational choice have led in recent years to economics becoming much more empirical, and much less tied to this deductive theory. (See the article by Noah Smith which began this post. Unfortunately in my view an exception to this trend so far is macroeconomics.). We can see this in the citations data above, and the most obvious manifestation is behavioural economics. But a more immediate example of a data rather than theory based idea is the gravity model in international trade, which lies at the heart of why Brexit is such a bad idea. It is irony indeed that just at the point at which we have all these articles attacking economics, a large number of people who believe the UK is committing a large act of self harm are seeing the virtue of just one small part of what economists do.

Having said all this, I think there is an unfortunate hangover from this insularity. As a discipline economics shows little interest in communicating its core knowledge to others [3]. This can be true both within academia and with the outside world. Within academia publishing in top economics journals still has far higher status than top journals in other disciplines. When it comes to policy and the public, there is a belief among many that when either requires our wisdom, they will seek out the best of us for advice. In part this epidemic of articles about the failings of economics reflects this communication failure. More importantly, both Brexit and Trump should be a wake up call that economists as a collective has to get better at communicating the core insights of economics.

[1] There are of course more underlying problems behind the UK productivity crisis beyond the negative shocks of austerity and Brexit. But economists overwhelmingly argue for more R&D spending and more public investment. In short if you want someone to blame for why the UK economy is currently in such a dire state, blame those who have ignored the advice of economists.

[2] Most of the good criticisms that I see of economics amount to requests to add to the tree. But economics is so rich that most things are possible. In part (but only in part) what is done follows the money: you will find it relatively easy to get money for work on free trade compared to work on rent seeking. To blame economists for that is just bad economics. As economists found out after the financial crisis, they had many tools to understand what had happened, but had just not applied them before the crisis.   

[3] I say as a discipline because I mean economists as a collective, not as individuals. There is no equivalent institutional infrastructure in economics to that built by the hard sciences. Of course many individual economists do their best, but there are also others who ignore the consensus to plug their own personal ideas or to further some political or ideological cause.

Bonus culture

Diane Coyle has an excellent article in the FT about an apparent puzzle. Why do executives get incentive bonuses (extra pay on meeting some target), but most workers do not? Her article is based around a classic paper by Bengt Holmstrom and Paul Milgrom. Their basic argument is that incentive pay linked to specific targets works (it increases effort) when tasks are simple and effort can be easily measured. However if tasks are complex, and only some aspects of performance can be accurately measured, incentive pay can distort the allocation of effort between those tasks, leading to undesirable outcomes. As Diane says “pay structures not only incentivise effort and direct risk-taking, they also determine the worker’s allocation of effort between different tasks.”

So target related bonuses make sense for workers conducting simple tasks where effort can be easily measured, but are a bad idea for workers undertaking complex tasks where only some aspects of performance can be measured. To quote Diane:

“Indeed, the best arrangement would seem to be the opposite of the pattern we observe now. Corporate executives and senior bankers doing complex jobs involving many impossible-to-monitor activities are the last people who ought to be paid via an incentive scheme; while bonuses for fast-food workers or shop-floor employees make more sense.”

The implication she draws is straightforward: the bonus culture for corporate executives and senior bankers should end. But this leaves us with a puzzle: why did this bonus culture arise in the first place? Perhaps bonuses created something beneficial that we are missing.

Here is a simple conjecture, based on another paper by Piketty, Saez and Stantcheva which I discussed here. They note that increases in executive pay are strongly correlated with reductions in the top rate of income tax. Their explanation notes that executive pay is the result of bargaining between the executive and the firm. The executive has a lot of bargaining power (what successful firm wants their CEO to quit), but whether they choose to use it depends on the reward from doing so. If top tax rates are low, the rewards are high.

The executive still has to convince their firm to pay them more. What better way to do this than to suggest they get paid a lot more only if the company is successful. In the climate of the 1980s and 1990s in the UK and US (when the income share of the 1% took off) that argument would have seemed pretty convincing. My conjecture therefore is that bonus pay became endemic among executives and senior bankers not because it was more efficient for the firm, but because it was a useful tool in a bargaining game. [1]

This argument completely reinforces Diane’s conclusion. Executive bonuses are a way for senior management to extract rent from their firms, which is a quick way of saying that these high salaries redistribute money from everyone else to themselves. A consequence was that they reduced efficiency by diverting the executive’s attention to just hitting specific targets. One final thought, as we in the UK are obsessed with Brexit right now. It was the EU that passed laws limiting bonuses in the financial sector, and it was George Osborne that spent the UK public’s money trying to stop that law coming into effect.

[1] Bonuses can play a useful role in small firms where revenues are volatile, as Chris Dillow notes. That argument hardly applies to the CEO of a large multinational.  

French macroeconomic policy improvisation

I’m confused about macroeconomic policy under François Hollande. When he came to power in 2012 he made deficit reduction a priority. The chance to lead some opposition to the dominant policy of austerity was lost. However where French policy did seem to differ from some other Eurozone countries was that tax increases rather than spending cuts would play a prominent role in deficit reduction. As I noted in this post, the Commission’s austerity enforcer, Olli Rehn, was not pleased.

However policy in France now seems to have taken a rather different turn. In January Hollande announced cuts to social charges paid by business. Many outside comments declared that this was a move ‘to the centre’. His speech also seemed to imply that he had become a convert to Say’s Law. But maybe there was a more modern logic to this policy: by reducing employment costs, perhaps the government was trying to engineer an ‘internal devaluation’.

Yet more recently, Hollande has appeared to pledge tax cuts to middle class voters. With non-existent growth and a rising budget deficit, the macroeconomic logic behind this policy escapes me. Many taxpayers will quite reasonably assume that any tax cuts will turn out to be temporary and will therefore save a good proportion of them, so the impact on demand will be weak compared to the cuts in public spending required to pay for them. A deflationary balanced budget cut in spending is the last thing you want with an estimated negative output gap of 3% or more. On a more positive note, he also appears to be trying to form alliances to loosen the eurozone fiscal straightjacket, although what success he will have remains to be seen.

The latest OECD forecast predicts a gradual pickup in growth, despite a sharp fiscal contraction, although this fiscal contraction is not enough to stabilise the debt to GDP ratio by 2015. The danger is the by now familiar one: that fiscal contraction will inhibit growth by more than forecasters expect, which will generate pressure to undertake additional fiscal contraction. Is there a clear strategy to avoid this outcome, or is Thomas Piketty correct when he says: "What saddens me is the ongoing improvisation of François Hollande.”

What the Financial Times got (very) wrong

When an academic, or student, thinks they have found a mistake in an academic paper or book, what do they do? Check their calculations again and again, or course. Ask someone else to do the same, maybe. But then they will write to the authors of the original work, and ask them to comment. What they will not do, in that letter or email, is to give the original author a deadline of one day to respond. That was how much time Chris Giles of the Financial Times gave Thomas Piketty to respond to his long list of alleged errors and unexplained adjustments.

I think it might have been very different if Chris Giles had written a piece about the difficulty of interpreting wealth inequality data, and had wanted to get clarification of what Piketty had done and why. I suspect in that case the paper would have given Piketty more time to respond (what was the urgency?), and the article would have benefited greatly from that dialog.

But that was not the article that Chris Giles chose to write and the Financial Times chose to publish. Instead they wrote an exposé, in much the same way as you would expose some wrongdoing by a politician. (Is an academic making a spreadsheet error the equivalent of a politician having an illicit affair?) The phrase they use in football is playing the man and not the ball.

Now, in the unlikely event that I ever warranted a headline story, I know I would not want to be treated in the way Giles treated Piketty. There were only two possible justifications for writing a story of that kind. One was if the paper had clear evidence that Piketty had fiddled the numbers to get the results he wanted, and it is obvious they did not have that evidence. The other is that they had found so many simple mistakes that this discredited Piketty as an academic. Again this was not the case. [2]

I also get very cross with academics who suggest that, because his book had become a bestseller and he had accepted invitations to talk to White House staff, he somehow deserved this kind of treatment. This seems to me like hypocrisy at its worst. Given this treatment, both Thomas Piketty’s initial response and his more detailed response issued yesterday are remarkable and impressive in their restraint.

So the mistake the Financial Times made was not that they allowed one of their best investigative journalists to look at Piketty’s spreadsheets (which Piketty had, to his great credit, made publicly available). As I said in my earlier post, a FT article that looked at the alternative sources for UK wealth inequality data, and questioned the idea that wealth inequality was inevitably rising in most countries, would have been an interesting piece. [1] The paper’s mistake was to write the story as an exposé.   

Why did the Financial Times want to run a ‘gotcha’ piece in the first place? Of course Piketty has become something of a celebrity, and tabloids love to knock celebrities down. But the FT is no tabloid, and to think it was just about celebrity may be politically naive. As Henry Farrell and Mike Konczal noted in a typically acute pair of posts, a focus on inequality as a central issue in economics is very threatening to some, and many of those who feel threatened will read the Financial Times. 

[1] It is worth noting that if we look at the Atkinson and Morelli database, among the six European countries where there was recent data for the top 1% wealth share, I counted three where there seemed to be an upturn in wealth inequality over the last few decades, and three where data showed no clear trend over the same period.

[2] Chris, in a first response to his critics, says that “Academic economists have got themselves into a bad spot if undocumented data, errors and tweaks are considered by some acceptable research practice.” As my original post pointed out, the best academics make mistakes, although in this case it is not clear any were made. So do the best journalists, and at the end of that post Chris acknowledges one of his own. If you want academic research in economics to scrupulously document every detail, you will either get a discipline that is so narrow as to be useless, or you will have to give academics a lot more resources!

Mistakes

My guess is that the majority of pieces of empirical work by economists will contain at least one error somewhere. Errors become almost inevitable when large and diverse data sets are involved, like those constructed by Reinhart and Rogoff and Thomas Piketty. So finding these errors is not headline news. Nor, for this reason, is it particularly embarrassing for the economists concerned when these errors are found, particularly if they have made their data public or available to others.

If you think that shows up empirical economists in a bad light, the best economic theorists can also make errors. One celebrated paper from my youth, Does Fiscal Policy Matter? by Alan Blinder and Robert Solow, contained an algebraic error (pdf). And if you think this shows up all economists, probably the most famous mathematical event of the last few decades - the Andrew Wiles proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem - contained what a journalist would call an error in its original form.

It is also often necessary to adjust data for a number of reasons. In an ideal world each adjustment would be carefully documented, but they rarely are. Of course official data series often involve many similar adjustments before they are published. If you can, it is always a good idea to talk to the statisticians involved in constructing your data before you use it, although it can put you off doing any empirical work ever again!

Errors and adjustments only matter if they influence key results. The Blinder and Solow algebraic error was not critical to the main results in their paper. The gap in the original Andrew Wiles proof was critical, but after what must have been an agonising year, he found he could bypass the problem and the revised proof was sound. The Reinhart and Rogoff spreadsheet error had a relatively minor impact on its own - the really important issues lay elsewhere.

With all this in mind, I have very mixed feelings about Chris Giles’s Financial Times splash. I applaud a journalist who is unwilling to take academic results or official figures on trust, and is prepared (and I guess has the resources) to get their hands dirty with data. Chris has consistently done this. For example, when David Cameron claimed mysteriously that George Osborne’s first austerity budget would increase public sector employment compared to Labour’s plans, Chris got to the bottom of how this trick was achieved. Yet I groaned when reading his latest FT article, with its emphasis on “mistakes and unexplained entries”. As far as I can see (read Ryan Avent here, and the longer Chris Giles post here, and Jonathan Hopkin here), the only issue of substance involves trends in the UK wealth income ratio, but of course an article headlined ‘Data sources on UK wealth income ratio differ’ would not have had the same punch.

Now you might say, as journalists always do, that people who become famous - including economists like Reinhart and Rogoff or Piketty - have to accept having their work treated in this way. They become ‘fair game’. I actually think that is wrong. Misleading reporting and commentary - by journalists or bloggers - is what it is: misleading. The fact that it can be commonplace does not excuse it. I understand the temptation to hype up simple spreadsheet errors even when they have no significant consequence, but I’m glad to say I did not succumb to this temptation in the case of Reinhart and Rogoff spreadsheet affair.

It is perhaps worth noting one other point. The Reinhart and Rogoff affair became notorious because governments had used this work to justify their austerity policies. The spreadsheet error was brought to light as a result of work by academics rather than by any journalist. In the case of Piketty, no policies have yet been implemented using the results in his book as justification. In that rather important sense, the two stories are different. Whether this asymmetry reveals anything of interest I will leave you to judge.