Time to complicate things

If we stop trying to simplify our economic models, we can improve policy.

According to the increasingly influential school of complexity economics, decisions that at the "micro" level might seem rational, when they become manifest at the "macro" level produce outcomes that are detrimental to all. Several "rights" often combine to produce a "wrong". This can help to explain problems like why there is such an unequal distribution of wealth in many developed economies and why some regions remain depressed for long periods of time.

Neo-classical economics finds it difficult to account for such emergent problems because it is based on a framework of simple, bilateral exchanges between individuals (people and firms). It is forced to regard economy-wide problems as the result of some external disruption to the normal running of free bilateral exchange. As a result, it has failed to develop an adequate theory that makes a connection between individual decisions and developments in the aggregate economy.  

The new fields of complexity theory and network theory help us to understand the economy as a dynamic network, rather than as the static model of bilateral exchange, which underlies orthodox economics. With this new understanding, we can start to develop policy options that might respond more effectively to problems like inequality of wealth.  

Although the school of complexity economics and the idea of emergent phenomena are relatively new, the recognition of system-wide economic problems is clearly not. But, for a long time, most economic thinking has held that many of our fundamental challenges, such as inequality and climate issues, are the result of market failures and can only be solved by using the power of the state to correct any such failures.  

A complexity perspective suggests the state’s top-down bureaucracy cannot, as it currently operates, offer effective and sustainable solutions to emergent economic problems. The state's policy-making incorporates the idea that society acts like a machine that responds automatically to a stimulus (such as a tax cut) in the same way each time, in large part because mainstream economics has taken a very narrow view of human nature and interaction. This has been explored most recently by Paul Ormerod in his book, Positive Linking.

Complexity theory is based on the core observation that social systems are dynamic, evolving networks in which individual and collective behaviour can shift and change rapidly and unexpectedly. The fluidity of this system means attempts to control an economy by gathering data, making forecasts and developing policy will always be subject to a high risk of failure. Mechanistic approaches to policy can be extremely problematic, for at least four broad reasons:  

  1. Idiosyncrasies matter and it is a near impossibility for a centrally determined policy to remain sensitive to local circumstances.
  2. Remotely set targets can be inaccurate proxies for real aims.
  3. Network effects can drown out the very incentives that form the core of most policy responses.
  4. Incentives are often set as if people were selfish maximisers of their own utility - but this is very often untrue.  

The neoclassical approach is comforting in the sense it implies that following simple, easy to devise, mechanical policy rules can solve some problems. But it is misleading because the economy does not work in the way it suggests, which often leads to inappropriate policy ideas. With the complexity approach things are, roughly speaking, the other way around. It suggests policy responses to certain problems will be hard to draw up, and the right answer might be found only after experimentation, simulation, and pilot studies. But the policy formed as a result is more likely to be suited to the policy challenge.  

The new fields of complexity and network theory advocate building up an understanding of the real world from the ground up. In doing so, they paint a picture of the real world that is much more recognisable than the abstractions of neoclassical economics. As such, they have the potential to offer new approaches to seemingly intractable policy problems, and, because these approaches are inherently apolitical, they ought to be of interest to all political parties.

This is an edited extract of a chapter from IPPR’s forthcoming book, Complex New World: translating new economic thinking into public policy. For more see here.

A bifurcation diagram showing a common representation of chaos theory. Photograph: Wikimedia Commons

Adam Lent is the Director of Programmes at the RSA. Greg Fisher is the Managing Director of Synthesis.

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The UK press’s timid reaction to Brexit is in marked contrast to the satire unleashed on Trump

For the BBC, it seems, to question leaving the EU is to be unpatriotic.

Faced with arguably their biggest political-cum-constitutional ­crisis in half a century, the press on either side of the pond has reacted very differently. Confronting a president who, unlike many predecessors, does not merely covertly dislike the press but rages against its supposed mendacity as a purveyor of “fake news”, the fourth estate in the US has had a pretty successful first 150-odd days of the Trump era. The Washington Post has recovered its Watergate mojo – the bloodhound tenacity that brought down Richard Nixon. The Post’s investigations into links between the Kremlin and Donald Trump’s associates and appointees have yielded the scalp of the former security adviser Michael Flynn and led to Attorney General Jeff Sessions recusing himself from all inquiries into Trump-Russia contacts. Few imagine the story will end there.

Meanwhile, the New York Times has cast off its image as “the grey lady” and come out in sharper colours. Commenting on the James Comey memo in an editorial, the Times raised the possibility that Trump was trying to “obstruct justice”, and called on Washington lawmakers to “uphold the constitution”. Trump’s denunciations of the Times as “failing” have acted as commercial “rocket fuel” for the paper, according to its CEO, Mark Thompson: it gained an “astonishing” 308,000 net digital news subscriptions in the first quarter of 2017.

US-based broadcast organisations such as CNN and ABC, once considered slick or bland, have reacted to Trump’s bullying in forthright style. Political satire is thriving, led by Saturday Night Live, with its devastating impersonations of the president by Alec Baldwin and of his press secretary Sean Spicer by the brilliant Melissa McCarthy.

British press reaction to Brexit – an epic constitutional, political and economic mess-up that probably includes a mind-bogglingly destructive self-ejection from a single market and customs union that took decades to construct, a move pushed through by a far-right faction of the Tory party – has been much more muted. The situation is complicated by the cheerleading for Brexit by most of the British tabloids and the Daily Telegraph. There are stirrings of resistance, but even after an election in which Theresa May spectacularly failed to secure a mandate for her hard Brexit, there is a sense, though the criticism of her has been intense, of the media pussy-footing around a government in disarray – not properly interrogating those who still seem to promise that, in relation to Europe, we can have our cake and eat it.

This is especially the case with the BBC, a state broadcaster that proudly proclaims its independence from the government of the day, protected by the famous “arm’s-length” principle. In the case of Brexit, the BBC invoked its concept of “balance” to give equal airtime and weight to Leavers and Remainers. Fair enough, you might say, but according to the economist Simon Wren-Lewis, it ignored a “near-unanimous view among economists that Brexit would hurt the UK economy in the longer term”.

A similar view of “balance” in the past led the BBC to equate views of ­non-scientific climate contrarians, often linked to the fossil-fuel lobby, with those of leading climate scientists. Many BBC Remainer insiders still feel incensed by what they regard as BBC betrayal over Brexit. Although the referendum of 23 June 2016 said nothing about leaving the single market or the customs union, the Today presenter Justin Webb, in a recent interview with Stuart Rose, put it like this: “Staying in the single market, staying in the customs union – [Leave voters would say] you might as well not be leaving. That fundamental position is a matter of democracy.” For the BBC, it seems, to question Brexit is somehow to be unpatriotic.

You might think that an independent, pro-democratic press would question the attempted use of the arcane and archaic “royal prerogative” to enable the ­bypassing of parliament when it came to triggering Article 50, signalling the UK’s departure from the EU. But when the campaigner Gina Miller’s challenge to the government was upheld by the high court, the three ruling judges were attacked on the front page of the Daily Mail as “enemies of the people”. Thomas Jefferson wrote that he would rather have “newspapers without a government” than “a government without newspapers”. It’s a fair guess he wasn’t thinking of newspapers that would brand the judiciary as “enemies of the people”.

It does seem significant that the United States has a written constitution, encapsulating the separation and balance of powers, and explicitly designed by the Founding Fathers to protect the young republic against tyranny. When James Madison drafted the First Amendment he was clear that freedom of the press should be guaranteed to a much higher degree in the republic than it had been in the colonising power, where for centuries, after all, British monarchs and prime ministers have had no qualms about censoring an unruly media.

By contrast, the United Kingdom remains a hybrid of monarchy and democracy, with no explicit protection of press freedom other than the one provided by the common law. The national impulse to bend the knee before the sovereign, to obey and not question authority, remains strangely powerful in Britain, the land of Henry VIII as well as of George Orwell. That the United Kingdom has slipped 11 places in the World Press Freedom Index in the past four years, down to 40th, has rightly occasioned outrage. Yet, even more awkwardly, the United States is three places lower still, at 43rd. Freedom of the press may not be doing quite as well as we imagine in either country.

Harry Eyres is the author of Horace and Me: Life Lessons from an Ancient Poet (2013)

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder