Are there too many people?

Whatever the answer, we need a population policy.

How many people do we need? How many do we want? The astonishing announcement last year that the population of England and Wales increased by more than 3.7 million between 2001 and 2011 brought population to the forefront of political debate here in Britain. Two recently published books on the consequences of continuing world population growth – Stephen Emmott’s Ten Billion and Danny Dorling’s Population Ten Billion – remind us that they are of global significance as well.

In 1926, John Maynard Keynes published one of his most celebrated essays – “The End of Laissez-Faire”, in which he proclaimed the demise of the ideology that had served as the fundamental underpinning of economic and social policy for most of the previous century. The Great War and its economic aftermath, Keynes explained, had done for the dogma that the unfettered pursuit of individual self-interest would always and everywhere be for the best. A new age was dawning: one in which the virtues of judicious government intervention would be rediscovered. There were three fields in particular, he predicted, in which deliberate regulation by government policy would be required.

The first was industry and national investment; the second, money and finance. On both these fronts, Keynes proved prophetic. After 1945, nationalisation of the commanding heights of the economy did indeed put control of aggregate investment firmly in the hands of the state and ingrained a presumption that the government is responsible for macroeconomic management, which survived intact the reprivatisation of industry in the 1980s and 1990s.

Meanwhile, in the monetary sphere, the self-regulating mechanism of the gold standard was swept away and replaced by today’s system of a central bank that sets interest rates in a deliberate effort to achieve low inflation and imposes rules (however feeble) to control the behaviour of commercial banks.

But in the third field that Keynes proposed, state regulation remains as taboo today as it was 87 years ago. “The time has already come,” he wrote, “when each country needs a considered national policy about what size of population, whether larger or smaller than at present or the same, is most expedient.”

Keynes merely asserted his point. Professors Emmott and Dorling make their cases in more detail, and in doing so they exemplify the two approaches to the population question that have dominated this debate for centuries.

Emmott takes the natural scientists’ approach – the perspective of biologists, chemists and physicists (though one that originated, ironically enough, with Robert Malthus – one of the fathers of modern economics). It sees the growth of human population, like that of other living things, as being constrained by the carrying capacity of the ecosystem: a physical limit defined by the scarce availability of natural resources.

Dorling, on the other hand, takes the social scientists’ approach – the way of geographers, economists and anthropologists. This sees population growth as determined by political, social and economic factors, rather than physical conditions.

At one level, the natural scientists’ approach is correct. There must be some physical limit to the number of human beings that can be sustained by the earth. In practice, however, the social scientists’ approach is the more relevant one. Human beings live in society and for many millennia now the binding constraints on population growth have been not physical but social and political. Famines, as Jean Drèze and Amartya Sen demonstrated, are generally the result of political failures, not natural causes.

It would be nice if we could understand human society as a natural system, but unfortunately we can’t. In modern economies, people make decisions – about everything from what to buy to how many children to have – based on economic and social incentives, not physical needs. And while physical needs and the earth’s capacity to supply them may be fixed, social needs and the economy’s ability to meet them are not.

In the physical sphere, requirements don’t change: we need the same number of calories to survive today as our ancestors did 500 generations ago. In the social sphere, however, what is valued today is often worthless tomorrow, and people’s behaviour changes accordingly. Just ask the management of BlackBerry or Nokia. Conversely, things not even imagined today may be considered bare necessities in five years’ time. Just ask Mark Zuckerberg – or, on a more prosaic level, whoever it was that invented the chain coffee shop on the high street.

The point, when it comes to population, is that it is social conventions, economic incentives and (most importantly in China) state decrees that determine how many children people have, not physical constraints or the lack of them. These social determinants can be changed and the rate of population growth will change with them.

Many people prefer this social scientists’ perspective because it sounds liberating – or at least, less pessimistic than the Malthusian vision of the natural scientists. Emmott predicts that the world’s population will imminently outrun its resources and so concludes with the apocalyptic advice that today’s children should learn how to use a gun. Dorling’s first chapter, by contrast, is called “Stop Worrying” – because the optimal population level is not some objective fact that can be backed out of a mathematical model of agricultural inputs and outputs, but a collective choice. So maybe there’s no problem after all.

In fact, it cuts both ways. If the question of the optimal level of population is political, not scientific, it may indeed be that the answer will be larger than today’s. But it might also be the same, or smaller. It seems Keynes was right: in matters of demography no less than macroeconomics, it is a fiction to believe that we are objects in a natural system governed by unalterable laws – and that things will therefore take care of themselves and a policy of laissez-faire is the best we can do. Britain, and the world, should indeed start thinking seriously about what level of population it wants.

Photograph: Getty Images

Macroeconomist, bond trader and author of Money

This article first appeared in the 23 September 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Can Miliband speak for England?

Garry Knight via Creative Commons
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Why Barack Obama was right to release Chelsea Manning

A Presidential act of mercy is good for Manning, but also for the US.

In early 2010, a young US military intelligence analyst on an army base near Baghdad slipped a Lady Gaga CD into a computer and sang along to the music. In fact, the soldier's apparently upbeat mood hid two facts. 

First, the soldier later known as Chelsea Manning was completely alienated from army culture, and the callous way she believed it treated civilians in Iraq. And second, she was quietly erasing the music on her CDs and replacing it with files holding explosive military data, which she would release to the world via Wikileaks. 

To some, Manning is a free speech hero. To others, she is a traitor. President Barack Obama’s decision to commute her 35-year sentence before leaving office has been blasted as “outrageous” by leading Republican Paul Ryan. Other Republican critics argue Obama is rewarding an act that endangered the lives of soldiers and intelligence operatives while giving ammunition to Russia. 

They have a point. Liberals banging the drum against Russia’s leak offensive during the US election cannot simultaneously argue leaks are inherently good. 

But even if you think Manning was deeply misguided in her use of Lady Gaga CDs, there are strong reasons why we should celebrate her release. 

1. She was not judged on the public interest

Manning was motivated by what she believed to be human rights abuses in Iraq, but her public interest defence has never been tested. 

The leaks were undoubtedly of public interest. As Manning said in the podcast she recorded with Amnesty International: “When we made mistakes, planning operations, innocent people died.” 

Thanks to Manning’s leak, we also know about the Vatican hiding sex abuse scandals in Ireland, plus the UK promising to protect US interests during the Chilcot Inquiry. 

In countries such as Germany, Canada and Denmark, whistle blowers in sensitive areas can use a public interest defence. In the US, however, such a defence does not exist – meaning it is impossible for Manning to legally argue her actions were in the public good. 

2. She was deemed worse than rapists and murderers

Her sentence was out of proportion to her crime. Compare her 35-year sentence to that received by William Millay, a young police officer, also in 2013. Caught in the act of trying to sell classified documents to someone he believed was a Russian intelligence officer, he was given 16 years

According to Amnesty International: “Manning’s sentence was much longer than other members of the military convicted of charges such as murder, rape and war crimes, as well as any others who were convicted of leaking classified materials to the public.”

3. Her time in jail was particularly miserable 

Manning’s conditions in jail do nothing to dispel the idea she has been treated extraordinarily harshly. When initially placed in solitary confinement, she needed permission to do anything in her cell, even walking around to exercise. 

When she requested treatment for her gender dysphoria, the military prison’s initial response was a blanket refusal – despite the fact many civilian prisons accept the idea that trans inmates are entitled to hormones. Manning has attempted suicide several times. She finally received permission to receive gender transition surgery in 2016 after a hunger strike

4. Julian Assange can stop acting like a martyr

Internationally, Manning’s continued incarceration was likely to do more harm than good. She has said she is sorry “for hurting the US”. Her worldwide following has turned her into an icon of US hypocrisy on free speech.

Then there's the fact Wikileaks said its founder Julian Assange would agree to be extradited to the US if Manning was released. Now that Manning is months away from freedom, his excuses for staying in the Equadorian London Embassy to avoid Swedish rape allegations are somewhat feebler.  

As for the President - under whose watch Manning was prosecuted - he may be leaving his office with his legacy in peril, but with one stroke of his pen, he has changed a life. Manning, now 29, could have expected to leave prison in her late 50s. Instead, she'll be free before her 30th birthday. And perhaps the Equadorian ambassador will finally get his room back. 

 

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.