Is the gender gap in earnings the product of "rational" inequality? Picture: Hulton Archive
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Much of women's work is unpaid - but without it, the economy would crumble

Katrine Marçal's Who Cooked Adam Smith's Dinner? reminds us how Homo economicus has always been supported by free, underacknowldged, female labour.

Who Cooked Adam Smith's Dinner?
Katrine Marçal, trans. Saskia Vogel 
Portobello Books, 240pp, £12.99

We don’t normally think of unpaid work as relevant to the economy. Housework – the cycle of cooking, cleaning, wiping, soothing, ironing that forms the daily life of so many women around the world (and yes, the emergence of the New Man notwithstanding, it is still women who do the vast bulk of unpaid work) – is usually excluded from economic analysis. It is made invisible, seen as a limitless natural resource, and therefore as having no value.

But what if one day women all over the world put down their feather dusters? What if we had to start paying for all the free cleaning and childcare? Canada’s national statistical agency has already thought about this: it came to the conclusion that unpaid work contributed between 30.6 and 41.4 per cent of GDP. That is a not insubstantial figure. So, why is such a huge contributor to national wealth being routinely ignored?

That is the question Katrine Marçal sets out to answer in Who Cooked Adam Smith’s Dinner?. She tells us the story of the emergence of Homo economicus, or Economic Man, the mythical figure around whom our world runs. Economic Man is rational. He is an autonomous individual who makes independent choices calculated to maximise his utility (economics-speak for well-being). Above all, he is a man. “[E]very aspect of Economic Man’s personality overlaps with every trait throughout history that we’ve come to call masculine,” Marçal writes. Besides, these traits are “those which we have understood to be superior to and worthy of dominating that which we call feminine”.

And what traits do we call feminine? Well, the opposite of everything embodied by Economic Man, of course. He is rational; she is emotional. He is independent; she is dependent. He is selfish; she’s self-sacrificing. She is everything he needs her to be so that he can be a GDP-generating island.

The thing is, not even man lives up to the myth of Economic Man. Behavioural economics has shown repeatedly that no one takes decisions in a “rational” manner. Our decisions are affected by how we feel at the time we take them, whether we are alone or in company, whether we are hungry. Even the way the choices are presented, or who presents them to us, can have an effect. All these variables can lead us to make decisions that would seem to run counter to our best interest. And yet these “irrational” decisions are the ones we are making every day. Why, Marçal asks, are we so bent on ignoring them?

As for the innately caring, dinner-cooking woman, she is exposed as little more than a rationalisation of inequality. For “the market is always right” fundamentalists, situations in which “women’s work” is unpaid – or where women are paid less for doing the same job, or where feminised industries garner lower wages – must have a rational explanation. Chicago economists, who in the 1950s were among the first to try to include unpaid work in economic models, hypothesised that because women were tired from all the polishing and scrubbing, they were unable to put as much effort as men into paid work. Therefore it was rational that they be paid less. On the other hand, they also reasoned that women did more housework because they were paid less. But then, economists aren’t always the most progressive creatures. The same Chicago economists also posited racial segregation as a rational solution to dealing with a racist workforce and clientele. And when Lawrence Summers was chief economist at the World Bank he defended the “impeccable” economic “logic” of dumping toxic waste from developed countries in the “LDCs” (least developed countries). Rich nations get rid of toxic waste: LDCs get enough cash to compensate for the rise in disease. “Let them eat pollution,” Marçal drily notes.

In this spirited and witty manifesto, she argues that we have allowed Economic Man to invade every aspect of our lives, to our detriment. The myth has even entered our sex lives: books such as Spousonomics advocate that wives control their husbands by “rewarding” them with sex if they behave well. There is no room in this analysis for a wife who wants to have sex because she enjoys it. There is no room in this analysis for anyone doing anything for any reason other than the most calculated self-interest. Love, passion and pleasure are relegated to the realm of the feminine – dangerously irrational.

“We cannot challenge Economic Man without feminism,” Marçal writes, “and we can hardly change anything of importance today without challenging Economic Man.” So, in commanding rhetoric punctuated with spiky wit, she does exactly that. It was Adam Smith’s mother who cooked his dinner: he never married, and lived with her for most of his life. Yet despite his dependence on her care she does not figure in his account of how meals are produced: “It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we can expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest.” Unlike the Chicago economists, Marçal does not seek to yoke every last aspect of our lives to the tyranny of Homo economicus. Rather, she asks why we have fetishised the myth, and suggests that man denuded of his humanity is not such a figure to aspire to after all.

Caroline Criado-Perez appears at the Cambridge Literary Festival, in association with the New Statesman, on 14 April.

Caroline Criado-Perez is a freelance journalist and feminist campaigner. She is also the co-founder of The Women's Room and tweets as @CCriadoPerez.

This article first appeared in the 06 March 2015 issue of the New Statesman, How Islamic is Islamic State?

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If the SNP truly want another referendum, the clock is ticking

At party conference in Glasgow, I heard Scotland’s governing party demand a future distinctly different from the one being sketched out in Westminster. 

Nicola Sturgeon described Glasgow as the “dear green city” in her opening address to the SNP party conference, which may surprise anyone raised on a diet of Ken Loach films. In fact, if you’re a fan of faded grandeur and nostalgic parks, there are few places to beat it. My morning walk to conference took me past chipped sandstone tenements, over a bridge across the mysterious, twisting River Kelvin, and through a long avenue of autumnal trees in Kelvingrove Park. In the evenings, the skyline bristled with Victorian Gothic university buildings and church spires, and the hipster bars turned on their lights.

In between these two walks, I heard Scotland’s governing party demand a future distinctly different from the one being sketched out in Westminster. Glasgow’s claim to being the UK’s second city expired long ago but I wonder if, post-Brexit, there might be a case for reviving it.



Scottish politics may never have looked more interesting, but at least one Glasgow taxi driver is already over it. All he hears in the back of his cab is “politics, fitba and religion”, he complained when he picked me up from the station. The message didn’t seem to have reached SNP delegates at the conference centre on the Clyde, who cheered any mention of another referendum.

The First Minister, though, seems to have sensed the nation’s weariness. Support for independence has fallen from 47 per cent in June (Survation) to 39 per cent in October (BMG Research). Sturgeon made headlines with the announcement of a draft referendum bill, but read her speeches carefully and nothing is off the table. SNP politicians made the same demands again and again – devolved control of immigration and access to the single market. None ruled out these happening while remaining in the UK.

If Sturgeon does want a soft Brexit deal, though, she must secure it fast. Most experts agree that it would be far easier for an independent Scotland to inherit Britain’s EU membership than for it to reapply. Once Article 50 is triggered, the SNP will be in a race against the clock.


The hare and the tortoise

If anyone is still in doubt about the SNP’s position, look who won the deputy leadership race. Angus Robertson, the gradualist leader of the party in the Commons, saw off a referendum-minded challenger, Tommy Sheppard, with 52.5 per cent of the vote.

Conference would be nothing without an independence rally, and on the final day supporters gathered for one outside. A stall sold “Indyref 2” T-shirts but the grass-roots members I spoke to were patient, at least for now. William Prowse, resplendent in a kilt and a waistcoat covered in pro-indy
badges, remains supportive of Sturgeon. “The reason she has not called an Indy 2 vote
is we need to have the right numbers,” he told me. “She’s playing the right game.”

Jordi McArthur, a member for 30 years, stood nearby waving a flagpole with the Scottish, Welsh and Catalan flags side by side. “We’re happy to wait until we know what is happening with Brexit,” he said. “But at the same time, we want a referendum. It won’t be Nicola’s choice. It will be the grass roots’ choice.”


No Gerrymandering

Party leaders may come and go, but SNP members can rely on one thing at conference – the stage invasions of the pensioner Gerry Fisher. A legendary dissenter, Fisher refused this year to play along with the party’s embrace of the EU. Clutching the
lectern stubbornly, he told members: “Don’t tell me that you can be independent and a member of the EU. It’s factually rubbish.” In the press room, where conference proceedings were shown unrelentingly on a big screen, hacks stopped what they were doing to cheer him on.


Back to black

No SNP conference would be complete without a glimpse of Mhairi Black, the straight-talking slayer of Douglas Alexander and Westminster’s Baby of the House. She is a celebrity among my millennial friends – a video of her maiden Commons speech has been watched more than 700,000 times – and her relative silence in recent months is making them anxious.

I was determined to track her down, so I set my alarm for an unearthly hour and joined a queue of middle-aged women at an early-morning fringe event. The SNP has taken up the cause of the Waspi (Women Against State Pension Inequality) campaign, run by a group of women born in the 1950s whose retirement age has been delayed and are demanding compensation. Black, who is 22, has become their most ­articulate spokeswoman.

The event started but her chair remained unfilled. When she did arrive, halfway through the session, it was straight from the airport. She gave a rip-roaring speech that momentarily convinced even Waspi sceptics like me, and then dashed off to her next appointment.


Family stories

Woven through the SNP conference was an argument about the benefits of immigration (currently controlled by Westminster). This culminated in an appearance by the Brain family, whose attempt to resist deportation back to Australia has made them a national cause célèbre. (Their young son has learned to speak Gaelic.) Yet for me, the most emotional moment of the conference was when another family, the Chhokars, stepped on stage. Surjit Singh Chhokar was murdered in 1998, but it took 17 years of campaigning and a change in double jeopardy laws before his killer could be brought to justice.

As Aamer Anwar, the family’s solicitor, told the story of “Scotland’s Stephen Lawrence”, Chhokar’s mother and sister stood listening silently, still stricken with grief. After he finished, the delegates gave the family a standing ovation.

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, the New Statesman’s politics blog

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. 

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood