Some Confirmation That I'm Not Crazy

In the seventh grade, after learning that I wasn't the first one to figure out that (a + b)² = a² + b² + 2ab, I was convinced that I would never have a novel idea in my life. At the time, this was a sad thought, because I wanted to be original, and make discoveries. But since I began writing this blog, I've enjoyed finding some of my thoughts in other places. Here's a metaphor to explain why:

When I sit down to write my blog, sometimes I feel like the commander of a small space vessel, zooming through vast galaxies of ideas.

Most of my journey passes in solitude—just me (and what appear to be) parsecs and parsecs of uncharted territory. The world of ideas seems so vast. At first, because of the thrill of discovery, I preferred the emptiness. But after a while I started to wonder whether I was just lost. So when I happen to chance upon another traveler, out in the reaches of a distant nebula (where I imagine some of my ideas tend to lie), I find welcome confirmation that really I'm not as lost as I thought.

Regular readers of the blog will know that a little under a year ago I wrote a blog post entitled "Why Profit Doesn't Work in the Media Business," which tried to link the blatant biases in today's journalism with the fundamental economic structure of the business. The idea was that profit, which is supposed to encourage firms to do the socially optimal thing, actually skews their incentives away from it (where in this case the social optimum was a perfectly informed and unbiased electorate).

When I wrote this blog post, I felt I was the only economist arguing that markets may make the news industry more biased. After all, Ronald Coase (1974), Timothy Besley and Robin Burgess (2002), Besley and Prat (2002), Djankov et al. (2003), David Stromberg (2001), and Alexander Dyck and Luigi Zingales (2002) have all advance arguments for why increased competition in the media should result in greater accuracy.

But it turns out I actually wasn't alone. In a working paper called "The Market for News," Harvard economists Sendhil Mullainathan and Andrei Shleifer (M & S) agree that market competition doesn't give us a fair and balanced news media, though their argument is much more detailed.

In my blog post, I developed had two separate explanations for why competition didn't lead to unbiased news, depending on whether consumers of news were either witlessly or willfully misinformed. In the first case, I argued that consumers get biased news because they don't know it's biased. This was more of a power-elite type explanation, which assumed that the owners of the media had certain political reasons for advancing bias, which consumers weren't savvy enough to figure out. Consumers in the media industry today, I said, may be like consumers going to grocery stores before the advent of health standards, not knowing whether the meat was tainted or not.

My argument in the second case was much more straightforward. Basically (if I'm to tease the empirical argument out of the highly normative argument I was making), I said that biased news was a particular kind of product that news media could sell, and that if demand was sufficiently high companies would provide it. This seemed intuitive enough, but I didn't have any model of how that worked.

That's where M & S's paper comes in. M & S propose a simple model of how firms bias their news by essentially constructing a variant of a Hotelling model. In a Hotelling model, customers are distributed over some space, and firms position themselves in the space so as to "catch" as many of them as possible. In this case, the relevant space is ideology. Firms compete by announcing their "slanting strategy" and the price for their product, and customers choose the news source that most aligns with their bias, for the lowest price.

In M & S's framework the way competition leads to bias is that it causes firms to segment the market. To avoid competing for the same customers, firms find it optimal to maximally distance themselves from their competitors. Practically, this means separating themselves ideologically as much as possible—even if that means taking more extreme positions than even their most biased readers. The average reader will find, then, more and more extreme positions (a.k.a. bias) in the news after competition.

This model helps explain the perception that the media has become increasingly biased in recent years. Since the entrance of competitors in the market increases bias, one important contributing factor could be that

changes in media technology have lead to significant entry, especially in television. If these media sources divide the market along ideological lines, we expect them to become more biased than they were in the regime of moderate competition.

Unfortunately, the model also suggests that news bias is very difficult to remove. No firm would find it advantageous to become less biased; but even if one firm credibly committed to ending bias, the other firm would still gain more profits by choosing to bias. This is more or less the conclusion I reached, and why I argued that the only way to reduce bias was for firms to commit do so based on moral or ethical reasons.

Why does no one like free trade?

Most states engage in protectionism, and lots of it. Brazil, for example, just put up a significant tariff against Chinese imports, amidst fears of de-industrialization. And Obama, in his State of the Union, signaled that the U.S. isn't about to let its manufacturing jobs go either. 

The properly schooled free-trading economist is supposed to dismiss all these efforts as "politics" (or so I've been told); and sigh that their advice is once again ignored. But I think it's telling that time and time again, when push comes to shove, most governments are not willing to embrace free trade, even though almost all economic theory shows that the benefits of free trade clearly outweigh the costs in the aggregate and in the long run. Such a consistent pattern begs an explanation.

Whether a country pursues free trade policies or not depends on how it balances the resulting costs and benefits. Clearly, the people who bear the costs and benefits are often different—and this is dilemma that the political economy literature has seized upon to explain opposition to free trade. The way the explanation goes is that because the winners and the losers are different people, and particularly because the benefits are small and dispersed across the population, while the costs are concentrated for small sectors of the economy, politicians find it more expedient to cater to the losers (who put up an effective lobby, since they have much at stake) rather than to the winners (who only stand to gain a little at the margin, and so won't notice if they lose their gain from trade). So free trade is blocked.

This is a powerful explanation, and goes a long way towards explaining a lot of the resistance to free trade. But it makes it seem as if opposition to free trade is inevitable.

Here's an alternative explanation that gives some clear conditions for when individuals will choose to support free trade. It relies on turning the focus away from the distribution of costs and benefits across different individuals, and instead to the costs and benefits over time.

The costs of free trade are most often immediate: lost jobs, industries, careers, and livelihoods. The benefits—economic growth, cheaper and higher quality stuff—come much later. Economists know well that people discount future benefits—that is, people value future costs and benefits less than those in the present. So if the discount factor is large enough, the benefits may come too far in the future to offset present losses.

To illustrate the effect that discounting can have, consider the following numerical example. Suppose a voter is deciding whether to support free trade or not. If she supports it, she'll face a stream of costs and benefits. Denote them by  and . If she doesn't support it, then (in her mind) nothing changes and the net cost/benefit is zero. So it follows that if her valuation of the benefits is greater than her valuation of the costs, then she will support free trade.

Note that this is different than asking whether the benefits are greater than the costs for that individual. This question is given by:

  

whereas the inequality that the voter checks is instead the following:

where    is the discount rate. These sums can produce substantially different values. For example, the following seems to me to be a reasonable graph of the costs and benefits of trade over time.

The costs start very high, but fade quickly. The benefits increase significantly over time. I have set the cost and benefit values so that the sum of the benefits is approximately 3 times the sum of the costs (43 to 16). That, in itself, seems to be a strong argument in favor of free trade. But given a reasonable discount rate of 0.9, the present value of the benefit stream is only 9.5, compared to 15 for the costs! Rationality demands that the voter vote against free trade.

Within this framework, how would we get the individual to support free trade? There are three clear options:

1. Mitigate costs in the present.
   Since the initial impact has such a strong effect, even small reductions in the initial cost can significantly alter the cost-benefit calculus.


2. Accelerate the arrival of the benefits.
   The sooner they arrive, the more they are worth.


3. Allow people the wherewithal be more patient.
   The easier it is for people to wait for future benefits, the more willing they will be to do so

These general principles, in turn, recommend specific policy prescriptions. Mitigating costs in the present often takes the form of a social safety net: unemployment insurance, compensation funds to those who lose their jobs, and the like. Accelerating the arrival of the benefits can mean something like including provisions in free trade agreements to require foreign investment to begin immediately. And a policy that would allow people to be more patient could include setting up a robust and ready job retraining program so that people know they have future benefits to look forward to. [Incidentally, ideology, control, and repression are also ways to make people more patient and more willing to support free trade, and unfortunately this is the way many countries (particularly in Latin America) have gone about it.]

Often I hear economists say that people oppose free trade because they are misguided, or stubborn, or selfish. But my point here is that people may oppose free trade, even if they know full well its implications, simply because the timing of the costs and benefits are unfavorable. The timing of some of those costs and benefits can't be changed—but a lot of them can, and that means there is a lot of scope for policy to shift the politics of free trade. Focusing on concrete policy steps to alter the cost / benefit calculus are likely to go much farther towards increasing trade than the 300 years of sermonizing that economists have been doing.

Absence

Sorry for the long absence, everyone. It's application season, and I've been busy with that. But I plan to get back to the blog now that I have more time. Plan to see a couple new posts in the coming weeks....I've had ideas brewing.

Competition Inflation

In some places in the U.S., especially on the coasts, the competition in schools is absolutely insane. In Manhattan, for example, moms are enrolling their toddlers in gifted kindergarten test prep classes, in hopes that their child will make it into the "best" kindergartens in the city. In Southern California, it's common that kids will make hour-long commutes every day to attend the gifted magnet school, or will start studying for the SAT their freshman year, or hire private counselors to help them craft the perfect college application. All of this is a far cry from life in Arizona, where, for the most part, pretty much no one bothers with any of that.

All this extra competition, though highly stressful, might be worth it if it produced brighter, more able, students. But in my experience that doesn't happen. Students from the coasts aren't, on average, any smarter than those from other parts of the country. Even the brightest students from the coast are no brighter than the brightest from Arizona, or any other laid-back state. They've just done a lot more work. So ultimately all this extra work seems to amount to a tax on students with ambition in highly competitive environments. Society doesn't gain, and these kids are certainly made worse off.

Why, then, does it continue? And what accounts for the discrepancy in competition between places like Arizona and places like New York, or California?

Asking these questions has led me to a fascinating synthesis between monetary and labor economics. The idea is this: labor markets, like the macro-economy in general, can also suffer from inflation. And some of the insights about inflation that we've learned from monetary economics apply to this labor version of inflation, or what I'll call "competition inflation."

In this analogy, we can think of the jobs, positions, fellowships, etc. (i.e. the total available number of positions to which we can allocate people), multiplied by its prestige factor, as representing the "real output" of the labor market. To illustrate, suppose the labor market wealth is 100. This sum could be achieved either through 100 jobs with a prestige factor of 1, or 5 jobs with a prestige factor of 20. But by this metric, in both cases the labor market has the same level of output.

One's resume is the price one pays for a position. The more prestigious the position, the more it costs, i.e. the better the resume has to be. Like money, resumes have relative, and not absolute, purchasing power; to get a good position, not only does your resume have to be good, but it has to be better than everyone else who applies for the position. This makes resumes like a nominal asset, a kind of currency in the labor economy.

Regular inflation, you'll recall, occurs when the money supply increases faster than the total value of goods and services in the economy. Similarly, competition inflation—or the phenomenon of an escalating resume-price to achieve any given position—occurs when more people have good resumes than there are positions in the labor market to support them (i.e. to draw a more complete analogy, when people's resume holdings outstrip real labor market wealth).

One direct implication of this formulation is that competition inflation isn't inevitable: as long as labor market output increases with the rate of resume improvement, then inflation should stay close to zero. Labor market output is a function of prestige, and job availability. Clearly, if there were an expanding number of prestigious positions to go around, then inflation would be low. But inflation could also be kept low if the number of not-so-prestigious positions expanded at a fast enough rate as well. The reason is that the more plentiful and easily available not-so-prestigious positions become, the less and less motivated people will be to put in the effort for the prestigious positions. That will, in turn, slow the rise of ridiculously lavished resumes.

(We can think of each person as having a tipping point at which they abandon striving for a prestigious position and settle for less, depending on the relative availability of jobs. That tipping point will be radically different for different people. Some people will only work for the prestigious job if there are no other jobs available, and some people will never work in a less-than-prestigious job; most people will fall somewhere in between. Incidentally, this tipping point may be a way of assessing people's subjective prestige valuations.)

Like regular inflation, competition inflation is something that occurs naturally from generation to generation. Baby boom Ivy Leaguers "love to talk about how they would have been turned down by the schools they attended if they were applying today," perhaps in the same way they talk about 25 cent comic books [source]. Since their time, there has in fact been several "devaluations" of the resume. Test scores used to be enough to get into a good college. But when there were too many kids with perfect test scores, admissions officers started looking to extracurriculars, and touting the benefits of the "well-rounded" students. Now they're seeing so many "well-rounded" students that the new fad is "pointy-ness"—being well-rounded plus having some achievement spike in a particular area. No doubt, within ten years the standards will shift again. Each time this shift happens, someone who builds his resume according to the old model will find that their achievements no longer mean as much.

In general, a modest amount of inflation is a good thing, and the same holds true here: as the economy becomes more complex, and as modern jobs require more and more skills, it's a good thing that our institutions push people to become more skilled. The problems come with hyperinflation, as is the case on the coasts. When resume-building ceases to represent any greater skill or talent acquisition, people start to lose faith in the currency. Employers become more skeptical, and students begin to think of the competitive process as arbitrary, or unfair, or meaningless. Having a good resume loses its respect. (Note, for example, the tone of this NYT piece).

In the face of high inflation, people switch to more durable assets. In the labor market, those durable assets are relationships, and networks. When everybody speaks three languages, and has volunteered in orphanages in Peru, employers need some way to make a decision, so professional networks do the work that resumes used to do. In highly competitive environments, then, networking becomes essential, and those people who are highly capable but without contacts lose out the most.

With inflation, there are always winners and losers. The losers are everyone in training, the young and the inexperienced. The winners are the people who already have jobs, i.e. the people who have cashed out their resumes. Someone who starts working may find that twenty years later the average resume required to achieve the same position has increased substantially. In that case, the person has experienced a capital gain; when they leave their job, they will have a job experience more valuable than what they paid for.

With this framework, we can explain some generally puzzling phenomena. For example, we see that competition inflation is most intense at the high school level, but peters out post-college, and is virtually zero for the most demanding positions. (The President's resume has remained about equally impressive on average throughout our country's 200+ years.) The reason for this is that early in our career, the relevant labor market that we face is more closed and restricted. High school students compete only within their city for the prestige positions, which they need in order to get recognized by colleges. But if the city happens to be a hotspot of ambition (because, say, all the kids' parents are investment bankers, or highly successful government officials), then the same ambitious kids will be competing against themselves—and so the resume price will be bid up. After college, however, students compete nationally, and internationally, for jobs. That spreads the ambition around and helps keep competition inflation more stable. Imagine, for example, if Harvard kids were only allowed to get jobs in Boston: competition inflation would be through the roof!

Of course, the major, elephant-in-the-room difference between monetary and competition inflation is that the latter has no central authority that issues currency from the outside: there is no Federal Reserve of Resumes. Instead, resume creation is a highly decentralized process that depends mostly on people's ambitions. However, there are several smaller authorities that set resume standards. For example, ETS, the company that administers the SAT, could increase the value of a perfect score by making the test harder. At an extreme, passing high school (or university) could be made a very difficult, demanding task. These measures would be equivalent to cutting the supply of currency in the labor market, and would curb inflationary pressures. But this solution would be very temporary. Soon enough, there will be enough people mastering the new standard that it will have to be set higher still. (There's also a question of what would happen to the kids who DGAF, and will just stop trying when the standards are raised. It's a question I'll have to explore some other time.)

Is there any resolution to the problem? Ultimately, it seems that controlling resume creation will have no long term effects, since there are enough ambitious kids willing to do whatever it takes. That means the only option is to expand the number of positions available—we need more places for these ambitious high school kids to go. But that won't happen unless there is some miraculous boom in job-creation in this country, or a number of good universities suddenly open up, or ambitious students suddenly gain another route to prestigious position besides college. None of these seems particularly likely.

Update (October 7, 2011):  One important implication of this framework, which I didn't mention earlier, is the presence of an inflation tax. In the normal economy, inflation works like a tax. Suppose the government needs to spend an extra $100 million dollars. Then it can raise that money either by collecting it in taxes, or by just printing it. The latter spares the government the hassle of dealing with angry taxpayers, and makes everyone feel richer, but it still costs them in the end: by printing enough money, the government makes each dollar have less purchasing power, which in effect takes a cut of real wealth away from people proportional to the amount of money they hold.

The labor-resume economy has the same phenomenon. Suppose that the government wants to boost the employment opportunities that people enjoy. It can do so by making it easier to graduate high school and college. In the short run, people will find better jobs. But in the long run, if graduation becomes too easy, the value of the degree will just become worth less, and you end up with situations like this:

“I was in a taxicab a couple days ago, and this is a story that really exemplifies how the economy is changing.  Over the two-way radio, the dispatcher’s voice comes, and he says, ‘Gentlemen, I’m looking for someone to pick up one extra shift on the night shift, a new taxicab driver.  If you know someone, they need to have experience.  And I also need a college education.’  And I thought to myself, ‘If you need a college education to drive a cab in this country, what job don’t you need to have a college education for?’" [from this Freakonomics podcast]

Update (October 13, 2011): Caveat: Thinking of a resume as currency only makes sense when we think of it as a homogeneous product. In actuality, though, what happens is that experience that some employers value applicants experience differently, depending on how it matches with the skills necessary for the job for which they are applying (e.g. as an extreme example, having 10 years of solid experience in engineering will not help you get a Broadway gig).

There are some ways to work around this. For one, we could focus on just (near) universally valued qualifications, like college graduation. Alternatively, we could focus on what happens within specific industries, where all applicants are competing on the same resume, and where it is easier to make apples-to-apples comparisons on qualifications. Either of these would do the trick to preserve the integrity of the analysis.

As one of my professors pointed out, models aren't meant to explain everything at once. So naturally this one can't either.

Update #3 (October 15, 2011): More evidence for my thesis, from this NYT article:

Moulshri Mohan was an excellent student at one of the top private high schools in New Delhi. When she applied to colleges, she received scholarship offers of $20,000 from Dartmouth and $15,000 from Smith. Her pile of acceptance letters would have made any ambitious teenager smile: Cornell, Bryn Mawr, Duke, Wesleyan, Barnard and the University of Virginia.

But because of her 93.5 percent cumulative score on her final high school examinations, which are the sole criteria for admission to most colleges here, Ms. Mohan was rejected by the top colleges at Delhi University, better known as D.U., her family’s first choice and one of India’s top schools.

Ms. Mohan, 18, is now one of a surging number of Indian students attending American colleges and universities, as competition in India has grown formidable, even for the best students. With about half of India’s 1.2 billion people under the age of 25, and with the ranks of the middle class swelling, the country’s handful of highly selective universities are overwhelmed.

This summer, Delhi University issued cutoff scores at its top colleges that reached a near-impossible 100 percent in some cases. The Indian Institutes of Technology, which are spread across the country, have an acceptance rate of less than 2 percent — and that is only from a pool of roughly 500,000 who qualify to take the entrance exam, a feat that requires two years of specialized coaching after school.

The problem is clear,” said Kapil Sibal, the government minister overseeing education in India, who studied law at Harvard. “There is a demand and supply issue. You don’t have enough quality institutions, and there are enough quality young people who want to go to only quality institutions.”