Time to reject false choices and fears about immigration

Basic freedom of movement across borders is fundamental to human dignity.

Srinivasa Ramanujan isn’t a name most people know, but his story illustrates the power of migration to improve the world.

Born to a poor family in southern India in the late nineteenth century, Ramanujan displayed a remarkable mathematical mind from an early age, developing complex theorums as a teenager.

He was a genius, but he left school in poverty and seemed destined to live a life of subsistence. By chance, Ramanujan was discovered by another Indian mathematician and ended up at Cambridge, producing ingenious new ideas and eventually becoming the first Indian to be elected a Fellow of Trinity College.

Ramanujan was lucky. Had he not been discovered when he was, he could have easily spent a life in poverty, his genius untapped and giving nothing to the world.

The west’s immigration laws make it remarkably difficult for latter-day Ramanujans to exploit their potential. Ramanujan represents not just the geniuses lying fallow in subsistence agriculture, but all human talent that is not being tapped to its full potential.

Whether the reasons are poor governance, cultural constraints, poverty or other restraints on human productivity, billions of people are being condemned to lives of relative squalor, with no way out.

A person’s productivity is enormously dependent on the circumstances they find themselves in. Taxi drivers in New York City, over 90 per cent of whom are immigrants, earn between $25,000 and $28,000 a year (£). Taxi drivers in, say, Benin can expect to earn less than $1,440 a year for exactly the same work.

Lowering the borders to allow more people from poor countries to come and work in the developed world would harness this and make the world dramatically richer in a very short space of time.

A 2011 study of the existing research around the GDP benefits of immigration by Michael Clemens of the Centre for Global Development (Economics and Emigration: Trillion Dollar Bills on the Sidewalk?) found that removing all barriers to migration could increase global GDP by between 67 per cent and a whopping 147 per cent – in other words, more than doubling global GDP. (In contrast, the studies reviewed found that removing all global barriers to trade – still an important goal – would increase global GDP by between 0.3 per cent and 4.1 per cent.)

Would these benefits mostly accrue to the host countries, depriving poor countries of the productivity of human capital? It doesn’t look like it. Development economist William Easterly has cited four reasons that "brain drain" from poor countries is a good thing: benefits to the migrants themselves, benefits to their families (through money sent back by those migrants), new skills and fresh ideas from migrants who do return home, and the global "brain gain" of tapping talent and unleashing the ideas of more people.

A World Bank study that compared the per-capita income gain to Tonga from microfinance, deworming programmes, conditional cash transfers and a seasonal migrant worker programme in New Zealand. The results were staggering – migrant workers sent home huge amounts of cash, increasing spending and investment in Tonga to raise per-capita incomes by 30 to 40 per cent - see graph below.

Graph from David MacKenzie on the World Bank blog.

We should reject the false choice presented by opponents of immigration between a fortress Britain and being "swamped" by immigrants. Fears of the welfare state being overrun are misplaced and do not reflect the reality that immigrants are actually helping to support state services. Immigrants to Britain pay more in taxes to the state than they consume in services – and since the average immigrant to Britain is young, we are counting on increased immigration to support our aging population.

There is a lot of evidence to suggest that immigrants are more entrepreneurial than the average person, as you might expect of someone who has travelled halfway across the world in search of a better life. A 2006 study in the US (pdf) found that "50 per cent of Silicon Valley engineering and technology startups were founded by immigrants (as were 25 per cent of such startups nationwide)." And, of course, the more innovation that takes place anywhere in the world, the better off we all are.

To libertarians and liberals, basic freedom of movement across borders is fundamental to human dignity. But everyone should be eager to make the world’s poorest better off and unlock the talent of more people like Srinivasa Ramanujan.

Sam Bowman is the head of research at the Adam Smith Institute

The backdrop to a speech about immigration. Photograph: Getty Images
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How “cli-fi” novels humanise the science of climate change

The paradox is that the harder climate-fiction novels try, the less effective they are.

When the Paris UN Climate Change Conference begins at the end of November, the world’s leaders will review the climate framework agreed in Rio in 1992. For well over 20 years, the world has not just been thinking and talking about climate change, it has also been writing and reading about it, in blogs, newspapers, magazines – and in novels.

Climate change fiction is now a recognisable literary phenomenon replete with its own nickname: “cli-fi”. The term was coined in 2007 by Taiwan-based blogger Dan Bloom. Since then, its use has spread: it was even tweeted by Margaret Atwood in 2013:

It is not a genre in the accepted scholarly sense, since it lacks the plot formulas or stylistic conventions that tend to define genres (such as science fiction or the western). However, it does name a remarkable recent literary and publishing trend.

A 21st-century phenomenon?

Putting a number to this phenomenon depends, partly, on how one defines cli-fi. How much of a novel has to be devoted to climate change before it is considered cli-fi? Should we restrict the term to novels about man-made global warming? (If we don’t, we should remember that narratives about global climatic change are as old as The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood.) If we define cli-fi as fictional treatments of climate change caused by human activity in terms of setting, theme or plot – and accept there will be grey areas in the extent of this treatment – a conservative estimate would put the all-time number of cli-fi novels at 150 and growing. This is the figure put forward by Adam Trexler, who has worked with me to survey the development of cli-fi.

This definition also gives us a start date for cli-fi’s history. While planetary climatic change occurs in much 20th-century science fiction, it is only after growing scientific awareness of specifically man-made, carbon-induced climate change in the 1960s and 1970s that novels on this subject emerged. The first is Arthur Herzog’s Heat in 1976, followed by George Turner’s The Sun and the Summer (published in the US as Drowning Towers) in 1987.

At the turn of this century, Maggie Gee and TC Boyle were among the first mainstream authors to publish climate change novels. In this century, we can count Atwood, Michael Crichton, Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ilija Trojanow and Jeanette Winterson as major authors who have written about climate change. The past five years have given us notable examples of cli-fi by emerging authors, such as Steven Amsterdam, Edan Lepucki, Jane Rawson, Nathaniel Rich and Antti Tuomainen.

Creative challenges

Cli-fi is all the more noteworthy considering the creative challenge posed by climate change. First, there is the problem of scale – spatial and temporal. Climate change affects the entire planet and all its species – and concerns the end of this planet as we know it. Novels, by contrast, conventionally concern the actions of individual protagonists and/or, sometimes, small communities.

Added to this is the networked nature of climate change: in physical terms, the climate is a large, complex system whose effects are difficult to model. In socio-cultural terms, solutions require intergovernmental agreement – just what COP21 intends – and various top-down and bottom-up transformations. Finally, there exists the difficulty of translating scientific information, with all its predictive uncertainty, into something both accurate and interesting to the average reader.

Still, cli-fi writers have adopted a range of strategies to engage their readers. Many cli-fi novels could be classified as dystopian, post-apocalyptic or, indeed, both – depicting nightmarish societies triggered by sometimes catastrophic climate events. A future world is one effective way of narrating the planetary condition of climate change.

Some novelists are also careful to underpin their scenarios with rigorous climatic predictions and, in this way, translate science fact into a fictional setting. Kingsolver, who trained as an ecologist, is the best example of this – and Atwood and Robinson are also known for their attempts at making their speculations scientifically plausible. Also, cli-fi novels, particularly those set in the present day or very near future rather than in a dystopian future, tend to show the political or psychological dimensions of living with climate change. Readers can identify with protagonists. To some extent, the global community is represented in fictional everymen or everywomen. Or, often, it is through such characters that science is humanised and its role in combating climate change better understood.

Can cli-fi lead to change?

Could cli-fi affect how we think and act on climate change? The paradox is that the harder cli-fi tries, the less effective it is. Many writers want to inspire change, not insist on it: the line between literature and propaganda is one that most novelists respect. Literature invites us to inhabit other worlds and live other lives. Cli-fi at its best lets us travel to climate-changed worlds, to strive there alongside others and then to return armed with that experience.

In Paris, the UN will seek a global agreement on climate action for the first time in more than 20 years. There is plenty of climate change fiction out there to help provide the mental and psychological space to consider that action.

The Conversation

Adeline Johns-Putra, Reader in English Literature, University of Surrey

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.