What is my purpose in blogging?

I have recently been invited by another blogger, Thought Bubble Ten (TBT), to participate in a self-interview on my blog. There is nothing wrong with the suggested list of questions and I was interested in the answers that TBT gave. But I don’t want to attempt to answer the questions on my blog because it isn’t actually meant to be about me.


While I was thinking about this last night I had imagined that one of the questions in the list was, ‘What is your purpose in blogging?’. That question isn’t actually on the list. I probably confused myself because I have been observing Jim Belshaw go through the process of reviewing what he is seeking to achieve through blogging.

Jim takes blogging a lot more seriously than I do, but it would not do any harm for me to review my purpose in blogging. When people have asked me this question in the past my answer has been that I am interested in issues related to liberty and happiness. I read a lot of material related to those issues; I write about the things I read because that helps to focus my mind; and I publish what I write on my blog because my views might be of interest to some other people. After I explained this to a friend he said something to the effect that I must have to have a fairly big ego to think that other people might be interested in my views. I agreed.

However, I don’t think the purpose of my blogging has a great deal to do with my ego. While I am interested to see how many people are visiting my blog and what they are reading, I do my best not to unduly influenced. I would get some satisfaction from having a more popular blog, but I keep telling myself that the main purpose of the blog is to help me to straighten out my own ideas.

I know a good interviewer would not be satisfied with the answers I have given so far. She would probably ask: So, why are you concerned about issues related to liberty and happiness?

My concern arises because I think our liberty is increasingly under threat from people who want us to be happy.

Around 250 years ago, Adam Smith wrote:

‘Every man is, no doubt, by nature, first and principally recommended to his own care; and as he is fitter to take care of himself than of any other person, it is fit and right that it should be so’ (‘The Theory of Moral Sentiments’, p 82).

At the time Smith wrote that, the idea that everyone is fitter to take care of himself or herself than any other person was becoming widely accepted. Such thinking was influential in the recognition of ‘pursuit of happiness’ as a right of individual citizens in the drafting of the U.S. Declaration of Independence. Doubts were expressed by some people even at that time about how successful individuals might actually be in pursuing their own happiness, but few would have suggested that it might be ‘fit and right’ that governments should assume responsibility for caring for us all.

Over the period since then, happiness has become a government objective. Our political leaders may not use those specific words -they are more inclined to state their objectives in terms of well-being and welfare rather than happiness - but the meaning is the same. In addition to concerns about health, education, care for the elderly etc, governments are increasingly being urged to take account of the findings of happiness research and behavioural economics to develop policies that will make people happier.

Does this mean that we are heading toward some kind of brave new world where individual freedom will be totally sacrificed in the interests of making people feel happier? I’m not sure. When people debate public policy issues it is natural to consider how the well-being of particular groups and the broader community might be affected. The problem is that in attempting to solve immediate problems for particular groups I think we have tended to overlook the longer term implications of reducing the responsibility of individuals to care for themselves. It is worth thinking long and hard about the implications of growth of government for the personal development of individuals as well as for norms of behaviour that are fundamental to peace and prosperity.

So, why don’t you write a book about this?

That is a good question. As my thoughts become clearer, the idea of writing a book about the links between liberty and individual flourishing becomes more appealing.

Are big bonuses counter-productive?

The usual argument against high remuneration of senior executives is that it is often undeserved. I have some sympathy for that view. It is particularly difficult to understand how a person who is given a promotion to the top job can actually be worth substantially more than a competitor who narrowly missed being given that job. The person who is given the promotion will not necessarily add anything more to the profits of the firm than would the person who missed out. In many cases the prestige of the top position would be adequate compensation for the added responsibilities involved.

Nevertheless, it is possible to view the recipients of such unmerited rewards as the lucky beneficiaries of a system that generally produces good results for shareholders. Tournament theory recognizes that high remuneration for senior executives can be in the interests of shareholders for much the same reason as high prize money for winners of tennis and golf tournaments is in the interests of the spectators. The prize money is there to attract the top players and to encourage them to perform well during the tournament. Providing part of the remuneration in the form of a bonus helps to ensure that the interests of the chief executive are aligned with those of shareholders.

In his recent book, ‘The Upside of Irrationality’, Dan Ariely suggests, however, that big bonuses can actually be counter-productive. He argues that very high bonuses ‘can create stress because they cause people to overfocus on the compensation, while reducing their performance’ (p. 47). The general idea is that people (and other animals) tend to choke when exposed to very high incentives and social pressure.

I suppose readers would be most familiar with examples of choking from professional sport. Greg Norman’s habit of choking at the end of major golf tournaments is legendary. Rather than being remembered for the tournaments he won, he is more often remembered for not winning tournaments that he led until the last round. (Interestingly, this has not prevented the Great White Shark from becoming a successful businessman.) Several books have been written about choking and how to deal with it. Henry Scuoteguazza has recently reviewed three of them here.

The experiment that Dan Ariely reports that seems to me to be most relevant to payment of big bonuses involved payment of different levels of rewards to people participating in various cognitive games. The bonus rates ranged from equivalent to about one days pay to about five months pay. (To make the experiment affordable it was conducted in rural India.) The participants who stood to earn the most had the lowest level of performance – they choked under pressure.

How relevant are such experimental results to the world of business? Ariely tells us that when he presented his findings to a group of bankers they maintained that they were super-special individuals who work better under stress. I suspect the bankers were probably about half-right about themselves. Their work environment would have tended to favour people who are able to cope well with the stresses associated with high-powered incentives. At the same time, in my view events of recent years suggest that many bankers are affected by a herd mentality – too willing to follow their colleagues into risky territory and then to join the stampede when danger becomes obvious.

Coming back to tournament theory, the critical issue is not whether the incentive provided by the bonus system actually causes the chief executive to work more diligently and effectively, but the effect it has on the profits of the whole firm. Even though chief executives, like sports professionals, may sometimes have difficulty in coping with the pressures associated with huge rewards, a bonus system providing such rewards could still be in the interests of shareholders. Then again, ... !

Does anything rhyme with Ngapartji?

No. ‘Nothing Rhymes with Ngapartji’ is the title of a documentary to be shown on ABC television (when that august organisation gets around to it). It was produced by Alex Kelly and directed by Suzy Bates, my daughter.


Suzy’s involvement explains how I know about the documentary, but not why I am writing about it now. I am writing about it largely because of something I read last week:

‘Conservatism makes the case for continued existence in a deep sense – not just the trivial sense of having biological descendants.

Too many Australian conservatives still don’t understand this crucial point. They believe Aboriginal Australians will be content to survive physically and become prosperous and culturally assimilate into the great global English-speaking tradition. We will not’ - Noel Pearson, ‘Pathways to prosperity for indigenous people’ 2010.

I took notice not because I consider myself to be a conservative, but because Noel Pearson is an aboriginal leader who is better known for quoting Adam Smith and presenting strong views about the importance of economic incentives. I was surprised by the passion of his defence of traditional culture and language. I will quote another few sentences to help make the point:

‘Individuals have the right to choose the course of their lives; my hypothesis, however, is that the cultural and spiritual side of human nature is suppressed. Aboriginal Australian traditional culture is evidence that when human behaviour is at equilibrium, people build structures of tradition tied to language and land and pass these traditions to the next generation’.

Noel Pearson argues that indigenous Australians have to meet the challenge of preserving the parts of their cultural heritage that are most important to them while dispensing with elements of cultural heritage that prevent them from taking advantage of the opportunities that a market economy provides.

‘Nothing Rhymes with Ngapartji’ highlights an aspect of the challenge that traditional law can pose even to those aboriginal people trying hard to preserve culture, language and the history of communities and families. The film tells the story of how the award winning theatre show ‘Ngapartji Ngapartji’ - which had previously been performed in Sydney, Melbourne, Perth, Adelaide and Alice Springs – was taken to the remote aboriginal community of Ernabella in South Australia. The show ‘Ngapartji Ngapartji’ told the story of Trevor Jamieson’s family, while teaching the big city audiences a few words of Pitjantjatjara. Trevor Jamieson, a professional actor, was the star of the show.

The logistics of taking the show to Ernabella were difficult enough, but Trevor had to risk offending his audience by breaking the traditional law against mentioning the name of a deceased person. His father, a central character in the show, had died a few weeks before the Ernabella performance. Trevor had to decide whether he could still act the part of his father and show footage of him. (Further information about the film and a preview is available here.)

When Suzy first explained to me that ‘Ngapartji Ngapartji’ means ‘I give you something, you give me something’, I said something to the effect that it must be about the benefits of trade i.e. the concept of mutually beneficial exchange. Since then I can remember reading somewhere that the meaning of the concept is closer to an exchange of gifts, involving an element of bonding rather than a commercial transaction. When I attended the show in Sydney I certainly felt as though I was being given a valuable gift.

Postscript:
'Nothing Rhymes with Ngapartji' is to be screened on ABC1 at 3pm, 3 July 2011 and on ABC2 at 8.50 pm, 10 July 2011.

How does big government affect the social fabric?

In a recent post ‘Does big government weaken the social fabric?’ I presented a table showing the percentages of the population in various countries who say that falsely claiming government benefits, cheating on taxes and accepting a bribe are never justifiable. I was using this data as a measure of the strength of the social fabric in different countries.


A commenter (Lorraine) suggested that ‘never’ is a pretty powerful word and that my ‘inner paleoconservative’ was showing. On reflection, I agree that it is difficult to argue that any of these forms of corruption are never justifiable under any circumstances. For example, I would find it difficult to argue that a person living in a society where corruption is the norm has as strong a moral obligation to refrain from corrupt activities as a person living in a society where there is little corruption. That is why corruption is so insidious – the more prevalent it is, the more difficult it becomes for anyone to resist it. (I suppose that kind of reasoning must make me some kind of moral relativist, but I don’t think I will lose too much sleep worrying about that!)

Survey respondents are asked to give a rating from 1 to 10, depending on whether they consider each behaviour is never justifiable (1) or always justifiable (10). In the following tables I have labelled ratings of 1 and 2 as ‘very rarely or never justifiable’ and ratings of from 1 to 3 as ‘rarely or never justifiable’.

The relaxation in degree of opposition to welfare fraud, tax evasion and bribery does make some difference to the rankings. The general picture remains broadly the same, however. There is generally more red at the bottom of the tables than at the top, suggesting greater opposition to corruption among people in the countries with smaller governments.