Why the future will be unfair

An economist argues that the US needs to start looking at inequality (as, indeed, do other developed economies) in a more dispassionate and analytical way.

Of all the many changes to American society since the 1960s, one of the most unexpected is also one of the most overlooked. Between 1969 and 2009 the median income for men in the US fell somewhere between 9 and 28 per cent, depending who you talk to. This is the departure point for Tyler Cowen’s new book, Average Is Over.

Having chronicled the US’s economic vulnerability in The Great Stagnation, Cowen, an economist at George Mason University in Virginia, says we have entered the age of “hypermeritocracy”, in which the top 10 to 15 per cent of Americans are “extremely wealthy” and lead “fantastically comfortable lives” and the rest work in “stupid and frustrating” jobs for falling or stagnant wages.

These trends are clearly evident in the US today. He writes that 60 per cent of the jobs lost during the recession were mid-wage jobs, while 73 per cent of the jobs created were for workers on $13.52 (£8.36) an hour or less. In the longer term, intelligent computers will further dampen demand for mid-wage jobs and only those with the ability to work with intelligent machines, or whose skills are irreplaceable, will benefit.

Free online education – something that Cowen is already pioneering with his online economics courses at the Marginal Revolution University – will offer opportunities to those from deprived backgrounds to join the new elite, and so the future will be both “more meritocratic and more unfair”.

Cowen says that many will struggle to reconcile this tension between meritocracy and fairness. “This juxtaposition is a kind of deliberate confusion,” he says to me when we speak over the telephone. “The point is that this world will be confusing and it will be disorientating . . . The final picture is one with both utopian and dystopian elements.”

He says he doesn’t want to tell his readers what to think, but argues that the US needs to start looking at inequality (as, indeed, do other developed economies) in a more dispassionate and analytical way. “There are many books on inequality but quite quickly they tend to run on the left to preaching some message; and on the right, maybe a kind of denialism or moralising about people who aren’t doing as well,” he says. “I tried to avoid both directions to see if we can get our understanding a bit further.”

Cowen was New Jersey’s youngest-ever chess champion, aged 15 when he won in 1977, and he devotes a whole chapter to the intrigues and wider implications of freestyle chess, in which players are allowed to use computer programs to improve their game. In the future, the “wisest” of us will entrust computers to make decisions for us, not only on chess moves but for affairs of the heart, he believes.

For Cowen, algorithms can hold the key to a happy marriage. He met his wife through the online dating site match.com in 2003. She is a liberal but he describes himself as a “libertarian” and “conservative”, and admits that his wife might have been less keen on a first meeting if she had known his political leanings. The medium of online dating forced her to abandon her usual intuitions – to their mutual benefit.

“I have quite a few friends who are single and I find a lot of them have quite arbitrary standards,” he says. “Over time, programs are going to nudge us out of that. The people who are willing to be nudged will on average marry better and they will make a lot of better choices.” If average is over, so is romance.

Russian chess world champion Vladimir Kramnik plays his sixth and last chess match against chess computer 'Deep Fritz'. Image: Getty

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 07 October 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The last days of Nelson Mandela

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times