Numerous modern authors draw on biblical texts as support for economic rules in modern societies. Notably, contemporary writers often draw contradictory conclusions about the message and intent of the texts in their ancient settings, as well as about the rules that they derive for modern life. In this article, I show the methodological failures of a few exemplar authors: ignoring evidence, misunderstanding the ancient context, misreading narrative as ethical instruction, and errors in connecting the ancient texts and modern societies. We have much to learn about how we approach these matters.
In this article, I will outline three types of problems that often afflict attempts to synthesis contemporary economic ethics from the Hebrew Bible: interpretive diversity, antiquity, and lack of economic expertise.
Perhaps the most significant challenge to synthesising an ethical approach from the Hebrew Bible is that the same texts are taken to mean quite different things by different interpreters. The ethical positions which interpreters bring to the scriptural texts have a significant impact on how they read the texts. As Lester L. Grabbe astutely points out:
Unfortunately, for some biblical scholars, the entire issue of the ancient economy seems to be reduced to the “exploitation of the poor” … a proper economic discussion has to go beyond indignation over the oppression of the poor and seek to understand and describe. (A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period: The Coming of the Greeks: The Early Hellenistic Period (335–175 BCE), 208)
Grabbe’s excellent advice has been largely unheeded, leading to some wonderful examples of well-meaning attempts to draw on ancient texts for modern purposes. For example, the Jubilee 2000 debt campaign sought to persuade rich countries to forgive debt owed by poor countries, an effort helpfully assessed by Michael Long (Theological reflection on international debt: a critique of the Jubilee 2000 debt cancellation campaign). Long’s work shows that biblical language still has the power to persuade western societies to change, although he also points to both theological and economic weaknesses in the specifics of the campaign.
Some interpreters, such as Paul Mills, argue that all interest-bearing debt must be abandoned, and that relational connections between people are the essential basis for economic activity. This depends on a naïve understanding of texts which use family terminology (e.g. the word often glossed in English as ‘brother’) to suggest that the ideal setting for economic activity is in families, or at least within groups who have close relationships with each other. Many other interpreters would identify these terms as promoting the idea that you should treat people to whom you have no family relationship as if they were your kin — in other words, that these texts imagine ideal economic activity occurring between people who share no relational connection, but who behave with the highest ethical standards towards each other. The two interpretations are quite simply at odds with each other.
Other interpreters see complex issues as simple. For example, Timothy Gorringe states that:
The redemption of money will involve—as Deuteronomy, the medieval theologians, and Luther all insisted—the abolition of usury… [Charging interest] harms life. (Capital and the Kingdom: Theological Ethics and Economic Order, 167)
It is not as obvious to other interpreters that charging interest harms life, and in fact others are of the opinion that charging interest can be used to support and benefit life. For example, Richard Higginson argues that ‘…the charging of interest can represent a fair commercial arrangement from which both lender and borrower benefit.’ (Faith, Hope and the Global Economy, 109)
The book of Deuteronomy has proved particular open to differing interpretations, which is unfortunate because one of the few things interpreters agree on is that Deuteronomy is systemically important for the task of theological ethics for economics. So, on the one hand, Andrew Bradstock argues that Deuteronomy supports a broadly socialist system (Profits Without Honour? Economics, Theology and the Current Global Recession), while on the other hand, Andrew Schein argues that Deuteronomy supports a broadly capitalist system (The Vision of Deuteronomy 15 with Regard to Poverty, Socialism, and Capitalism). I will return to this in future articles, but for the moment I will foreshadow my argument by suggesting that in seeking a system, both interpretations make an error of method.
As Edward Norman rightly pointed out many years ago, part of the reason for this diversity of interpretation is that many people approach texts which use technical terms from antiquity and expect that those ancient technical terms have a straightforward correspondence in today’s economic world. But this is not a sensible approach:
…the vocabulary used is not merely a contemporary rendition of biblical meaning, as those who employ it like to suppose; in reality, … Their enthusiasm is such that they are unhesitatingly convinced of the inherent Christianity of any moral ideal which seems calculated to improve the lot of men. (Christianity and World Order)
Norman is quite right to attribute excellent motives to these various interpreters, include those who have continued to approach the scriptural texts in the years since his lecture. The error is neither attempting to improve the lot of humanity, nor having enthusiasm for doing so, but in attempting to co-opt texts which resist such a straightforward appropriation for the task. Indeed, the exegetical and hermeneutical gymnastics sometimes required mean that as John Barton points out, many interpreters, especially those reading scriptural texts with an ‘avowedly theological agenda,’ in doing so ‘detach the text wholly from its ancient moorings’ (Understanding Old Testament Ethics: Approaches and Explorations, 63).
On top of the challenge of words, it can be difficult for modern readers to know what is normal or unusual in the ideas represented in ancient texts, because we have no easy access to a sense of what was normal in ancient times. As Robert Carroll points out, Jeremiah 32 (and other texts about ‘redemption’) might simply be ‘reflecting a social practice of land-purchasing,’ rather than advocating for that practice (Textual Strategies and Ideology in the Second Temple Period, 108–24). Redemption is certainly not a usual economic practice today, so it naturally strikes modern readers as being unusual, but this is not necessarily a good assumption to bring to an ancient text. This is an extension of Norman’s point earlier about the meaning of words, and extents to the ideas and practices which the words of ancient texts attest to.
Often, the ancient evidence is complex or even apparently conflicting, and so the temptation for modern ethicists is to be selective about which evidence they attend to or give weight to, perhaps even preferring one type of evidence over another. As an example, when Boer states that ‘the self-sufficient subsistence of the village communes… comprised the bulk of all socioeconomic life’ (The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel, 131), he is asserting this as part of an argument that subsistence communes are a normative ideal. In doing so he draws from one particular set of modern ideas about what is normal, saying that Vladimir Lenin’s view that the ‘state is the product of class conflict’ is an ‘uncontroversial’ statement (134). In fact, he is so willing to follow this line of thinking, despite ancient textual evidence to the contrary, that he claims that modern readers should guard themselves against the ‘seductions’ (126) of ancient written sources which do not fit this mould.
Others, by contrast, can be criticised for placing too much weight on the written sources. For example, Roger Nam states that Moshe Elat, who has written a major work on the ancient Israelite economy, ‘draws freely form [sic] the biblical narrative without much discussion over the archaeological evidence’ (Portrayals of Economic Exchange in the Book of Kings, 22). The point is not so much that Elat is wrong to give weight to the biblical narrative, nor that Boer is wrong to give weight to archaeological evidence, but that conclusions interpreters arrive at can often be determined by their methodological preferences for one type of evidence over another, or by the particular set of modern ideals they hold and are (no doubt unconsciously) projecting back into antiquity.
When faced with complex and sometimes not entirely coherent types and pieces of evidence from the ancient world, it can no doubt be very tempting to be selective. But selectivity can conceal the challenge of even understanding the individual pieces of evidence, or of knowing what is normal and what is unusual. In scriptural texts, many of which are undoubtedly read for their persuasive or ethically normative aspects, this problem is compounded in the case of economic matters as it can be exceptionally difficult to know if a particular economic matter (such as land redemption) is incidental or significant.
Lastly, it is an unfortunate reality that the specialisations required to interpret ancient texts on the one hand, and to engage with contemporary economics on the other, are not often found in the same person. As a result, people attempting to navigate the combination can run aground. I will give three examples of this.
First, consider María Eugenia Aubet’s pejorative association of disconnected ideas:
The idea of a market economy or ancient capitalism implies not only supply and demand but also the pillaging of resources, accumulation of capital, exploitation of one class by another and free trade, and certain practices of production and consumption dictated by the laws of supply and demand, behind which lie large-scale movements and interests associated with the structural fluctuation of prices. (Commerce and Colonization in the Ancient Near East, 369)
I cannot think of a reputable economic theorist who believes that all these negative consequences are tied to supply and demand: indeed, supply and demand are neutral in economic theory, and certainly have no requirement for pillaging attached to them in any major economic textbook. A more plausible argument might be that understanding supply and demand can even help prevent the kinds of social dislocations that might prompt pillaging!
Ancient historians can also on occasion display a lack of precision around matters of economics. For example, Roland Boer attempts to distinguish between ‘credit,’ which he sees as being part of a virtuous, trust-based economic system, and ‘debt,’ which he sees as ontologically different and describes as a means of gaining power over labour (The Sacred Economy of Ancient Israel, 157–8). The idea that debt and credit are two sides of the same coin does not seem to have occurred to him, or at least it’s absent from what Boer writes. Because he fails to distinguish the two, it is left entirely unclear how a person in need might obtain virtuous ‘credit’ without incurring odious ‘debt’ as a consequence, or how it can be virtuous to have access to ‘credit’ if the person extending that credit must by necessity be a power-hungry ‘debt’ merchant.
The same lack of subject expertise can be visible in modern economists who read ancient texts. For example, Edward Swan has claimed that derivatives have existed for millennia (Building the Global Market: a 4000 Year History of Derivatives), but in doing so I would argue that he projects modern ideas about finance onto ancient texts. For example, agreements to provide a certain quantity of goods in the future for a particular price have formal similarities to modern forward contracts. The intent of the ancient agreements, however, was often to gain control over a person’s labour, rather than to trade against variations in prices over time. Reading English translations of the texts without detailed knowledge of the ancient social and economic settings for the text risks serious misinterpretation.
It might seem that I am counselling despair for any attempt to connect the scriptural texts to modern economic life. As it happens, I would not want to go as far as Andrew Henley, when he states that, ‘…it is not appropriate to attempt to derive a set of rules or principles for economic life from the foundation of Old Testament economic law, as some recent attempts by economists try to achieve’ (Economics and Virtue Ethics: Reflections From a Christian Perspective, 109–28).
What I am suggesting is that to make constructive points from these texts, or from the non-legal scriptural texts, requires some careful preparatory work. First, we need to have an accurate description of the economic contexts from which the texts arose, including an awareness of the limits of our access to knowledge of ancient economies. Secondly, we need to be judicious and cautious in our assertions about the ethical arguments the scriptural texts are advancing.
Neither of these is impossible, but both are challenging and complex tasks. To me, that makes the tasks all the more enjoyable, and I hope to outline some ideas in subsequent posts which address some of these issues, starting with a new description of the ancient Israelite economy which forms the setting for any interpretation of the scriptural texts.
Dr Lyndon Drake has recently completed a DPhil at Oxford on theology and economic capital in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament. He also has degrees in science and commerce (Auckland), a PhD in computer science (York), and two prior degrees in theology (Oxford), along with a number of peer-reviewed academic publications in science and theology. From the Ngāi Tahu Māori tribal group, he currently serves as Archdeacon of Tāmaki Makaurau in the Māori Anglican bishopric of Te Tai Tokerau. Lyndon has written Capital Markets for the Common Good: A Christian Perspective (Oxford: 2017, Oxford Centre for Enterprise, Markets, and Ethics). He is married to Miriam with three children. Until 2010, Lyndon was a Vice President at Barclays Capital in London.
Deirdre McCloskey’s Bourgeois Era trilogy comprises a magisterial analysis of the causes of what McCloskey calls “The Great Enrichment” (i.e. the 30+ fold increase in human material wealth since 1800). All three volumes are well worth reading but they are long – 1,700 pages in all – and thus have limited reach. Art Carden has, therefore, tried to bring McCloskey’s arguments to a wider audience. He describes Leave Me Alone and I’ll Make You Rich as “a popular riff” on McCloskey’s trilogy written by him “with McCloskey’s more or less heavy editing”. He adds that, for McCloskey’s reliance on a large body of scientific and humanistic literature, he has substituted “brief examples and quickie arguments” (page xvi).
The book is essentially an appeal for economic and political “hands-off” liberalism, which Carden makes clear is very different not just from socialism or social democracy but also from any system that imposes material restrictions on economic freedom whether of the kind advocated by the Left or that advocated by the Right. Carden (and, through him, McCloskey) thus takes on not merely those on the Left who favour big government but those on the Right who are obsessed with immigration, favour restrictions on trade or dream of some form of autarky.
In doing this, the authors challenge well-entrenched political and economic narratives and slay some long-lived sacred cows: they challenge the view that countries need to be competitive in the international market; their response to the fear that European and American incomes will fall relative to other societies is “But so what? It’s good, not bad, that other societies are also becoming rich” (page 60); and Dickens’s famous attack on northern industrialism, in his 1854 novel Hard Times, is dismissed as “muddle headed in its understanding of industry” (page 57).
The authors also take issue with the pessimism that prevails across the political spectrum, which would have us believe that things are getting worse or, at least, that the rich are getting richer at the expense of the poor getting poorer. They produce copious evidence that this is not true and that, on the contrary, “By every measure, the lives of average people – and of the poorest, too – are better than they have ever been and are rapidly getting better still” (page 16). They also assert (certainly correctly) that “the poor have been the chief beneficiaries of the Great Enrichment” (page 38), pointing out that the developments of the last 200 years have consistently brought to the poor things that were previously the preserves of the rich and quoting with approval Schumpeter’s famous comment that “The capitalist achievement does not typically consist in providing more silk stockings for queens but in bringing them within the reach of factory girls in return for steadily decreasing amounts of effort” (page 49).
The book provides a good summary of McCloskey’s persuasive arguments relating to the causes of this Great Enrichment. Separate chapters are devoted to refuting explanations based upon the availability of resources or property rights, the growth in savings or capital, access to schooling or growth in scientific knowledge, imperialism and slavery. Instead, the authors argue that the key driver of enrichment has been “a tidal wave of ingenuity” and that “the British got rich – and then Westerners and then much of the world, and all humans in the next few generations – because of a change in ethics and rhetoric and ideology” (page 86).
The authors are not materialists. Indeed they state that “Materialism…is a danger to the soul” (page 75), they attack Jeremy Bentham’s “vulgar utilitarianism” (page 159) and they will have nothing to do with “greed is good” philosophy (which they rightly point out is a travesty of the careful moral position adopted by Adam Smith, page 176). They also recognise the reality of climate change and are contemptuous of attempts of some US states to manipulate teaching so as to belittle the problem. However, they balance this by pointing out that the response of governments to some environmental problems has been counterproductive and suggesting that the market has a role to play in the solutions.
All of these points are made in ways that are accessible to most educated readers and the authors use examples and illustrations that are engaging and memorable. For example, their arguments relating to the impact of the Great Enrichment on the poor take as their starting point a performance of “Les Misérables” in Birmingham, Alabama in 2014 that was used by the local Women’s Fund as the occasion for an exhortation to the audience to “Help Women Like Fantine in Birmingham” (the impoverished Fantine being one of the musical’s main characters). The exhortation noted that the median income for a single mother with two children was then US$29,390, which McCloskey and Carden point out is between four and five and a half times higher in real terms than the average income in France in 1832 and, probably, more like eight to ten times higher than the income which a real-life Fantine would then have received.
The book thus has great strengths. However, it also has weaknesses. In particular, its style will annoy some readers. In the Preface, Carden says that the book includes “a bit of corny clowning around, in which both authors idiotically delight” (page xvi) and this together with the conversational, almost light-hearted, tone that is frequently adopted, may grate. For example, having described some of the benefits of the Great Enrichment, the books goes on “’But it has come at the expense of the world’s poor,’ you say. Crucially, we repeat, and we will say to you again and again until you confess your deep error, and stop repeating it…, no, no, no” (page 38). This kind of thing is doubtless intended to be light-hearted but it may come across as arrogant condescension.
The authors occasionally take side swipes at particular people or views. The fact that Donald Trump is one of these will doubtless please many readers but they may feel somewhat less comfortable when the target is nearer to home (e.g. the statement that the Great Enrichment didn’t occur because of “a Christianity which for some reason waited nearly two thousand years to pay off in mundane equality”, page 171). Such comments don’t assist the book’s arguments and are more likely to alienate than to persuade the uncommitted reader.
Some regrettable exaggerations and mistakes may also undermine the confidence of such readers. For example, contrary to what is stated on page 127, John Newton was not a Quaker and the statement that “no one, from Aristotle to Daniel Defoe, regarded forced labour as an evil system” (page 124) is the kind of statement that might be forgivable in the course of ordinary conversation but is obviously an exaggeration.
More seriously, whilst the book points to good evidence to support its core arguments, many important points are less well-evidenced. Some of these points are peripheral to the main argument (e.g. that relating to the impact of Eudaimonism on economic growth, page 156) but others are of greater significance. In particular, readers who are supportive of extensive government intervention in the economy will doubtless note the lack of properly argued support for the authors’ dismissal of the efficacy of such intervention. This is a pity because, in recent years, many have asserted that the market is the cause of poverty or, at the very least, that the solution to poverty lies primarily in government action and it is important that this assertion be carefully analysed and its flaws exposed.
Criticism of the lack of supporting evidence may, however, be unfair. The objective of Leave Me Alone and I’ll Make You Rich is to present McCloskey’s basic theses in an accessible form and the authors’ response to this criticism would probably be to suggest that the critic read McCloskey’s underlying works.
For those who have time to do so, this would be a good suggestion. In particular, McCloskey’s Bourgeois Equality provides answers to many of the questions that Leave Me Alone And I’ll Make You Rich fails to answer. Readers who do not have the time or inclination to tackle Bourgeois Equality would, however, do well to read Leave Me Alone and I’ll Make You Rich.
“Leave Me Alone and I’ll Make You Rich” by Deirdre McCloskey and Art Carden was published in 2020 by The University of Chicago Press (ISBN-13:9780226739663). 189pp.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 30 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and he is currently a member of the Panel. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the firm’s Executive Committee.
The starting point of a World of Insecurity is that democracy is under threat across the world and that this threat comes from the acts of elected governments themselves and, particularly, from the rise of populist governments. This is becoming a common theme (see, for example, The Economics of Belonging. Bardhan, however, suggests that his book is different in some major ways: first, his analysis seeks to combine “the perspectives of rich industrial countries and relatively poor developing countries” (page 3); secondly, he seeks to examine not only “the large rise in inequality” but also the “distinctive problems of insecurity, both economic and cultural” (page 3); and, thirdly, he assesses what he describes as “the alternative model of authoritarian capitalism” adopted in China (page 4).
Although Bardhan’s book is not as different from others as he may believe, he sometimes brings a different perspective to problems and there is much in his analysis that is interesting. It is refreshing to read a book that avoids treating the economic problems of the West (and, in particular, those of the USA) as if they were the problems of the world and both Bardhan’s frequent references to Indian issues and his chapter analysing the Chinese experience are valuable. Furthermore, his broader perspective enables him to adopt a more nuanced approach to some policy proposals that are frequently advanced. For example, his analysis of the idea of devolving more power to local communities draws heavily on the Indian experience to present challenges to those in the West who are guilty of “communitarian romantism” (page 39); his suggestion that universal basic income may be more affordable in some middle-income countries than it is in high-income countries is worthy of consideration; and his observation that “Support for globalisation is stronger in developing than developed countries” (page 18) should give food for thought to all those who see globalisation as one of the main causes of the world’s woes.
Bardhan rightly urges that we “move beyond the overly simple and amorphous Left versus Right distinction of common ideological parlance” on the basis that it “has become quite misleading, particularly in failing to capture the multidimensionality of ideological positions” (page 102). He recognises that many so-called “right-wing” populists advocate social policies that are more commonly associated with the Left and that there are considerable divisions within both those who would regard themselves on the Left of the political spectrum and those who would regard themselves as on the Right. He himself is not easily categorised since, although he advocates many policies associated with the Left, he broadly favours free trade.
He recognises both the need to bridge ideological and social divides and that, in the kind of democracy that he favours, there will always be significant differences of opinion and, therefore, a need to compromise. He also urges that Social Democrats keep in mind that “their strength ultimately lies not in fighting battles on new frontier of identity puritanism but in finding ways of transcending the divisions of society based on identity” (page 131).
All of this is valuable but, sadly, overall the book promises more than it delivers and, as it progresses, its defects come more and more to the fore.
Despite the reasonableness of some of his statements, in many places, he uses disrespectful and dismissive language in relation to people and ideas with whom or which he disagrees. Examples include his reference to “the bullying shambolic showman Boris Johnson” (page 27), his statement that the Republican Party in the USA is “serving the interests of the business elite, whilst stoking culture wars to consolidate party votes among socially conservative lower classes” (page 30), his division of “the Right” between “greed-is-good market fundamentalists, on the one hand, and conservatives on the other, who dread the encroachments of the market on traditional family values and community dislocations” (page 114) and his gratuitous reference to “Thatcherite depredations” (page 142). Whether or not one agrees with his underlying concerns (and some clearly have an element of truth in them), this kind of language is unhelpful.
Furthermore, despite his recognition of the inadequacy of the left-right distinction, Bardhan uses it himself and leaves us in no doubt as to where his sympathies lie. For example, his comments about “closed ideological echo chambers” are directed solely at “right-wing populists” (page 130) and, although he rightly points to the toxic role of social media, he wrongly reserves his denunciation for “the right-wing troll armies”, which he believes “have been much more effective in spreading their message than the Left has been in countering the damage and spreading its own message” (page 31). Those who have been the victims of trolling by reason of their views on transgender issues and other controversial subjects and others who have been “no platformed” on account of their rejection of left-wing shibboleths will doubtless beg to differ.
Bardhan never states clearly who his target audience is. Although frequent reference is made to the research and views of other academics, A World of Insecurity is not an academic work: it has no footnotes or endnotes and many of its arguments are lacking careful support. Yet it is not the kind of book that will attract casual readers, let alone one that is likely to persuade many people to change their basic political positions. One, therefore, gains the impression that Bardhan is writing primarily for those on the Left who are in search of a programme and this impression is enforced by his tendency, particularly in the second half of the book, to speak about what “Social Democrats” should and should not do.
Some of his comments read as though they were made by a political campaign manager seeking to establish a platform for an election (e.g. “in order to differentiate its products from those on the right, social democrats have to be innovative not just ‘redistribution’ but in the sphere of production or what is sometimes called predistribution”, page 122). Furthermore, despite the devotion of a full chapter to universal basic income and adequate discussion of some other policy matters, as the book progresses, Bardhan’s policy suggestions come thick and fast and he asserts things as if they were self-evidently true and thus not needing any supporting argument (e.g. “Of course, the need for redistribution will be pressing as the pandemic exacerbates the forces of inequality in manifold ways”, page 122). The reader may thus be left with the same kind of unsatisfactory feeling that accompanies the reading of a party’s election manifesto in which the list of vague and undeveloped policy commitments leaves more questions than answers.
Some of Bardhan’s statements are extraordinary. In a throw-away comment, he states that “high tax rates on capital have the additional benefit of discouraging investment in labour-displacing automation” (page 153). Presumably he would have supported such taxes to prevent the introduction of textile machinery at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries! He also seems to regard China’s handling of the Covid pandemic as a success story (page 64) and his suggestion that “the duality of employment opportunities in the American economy gets layered into the history of racial politics to perpetuate the rich and poor class divide as the middle vanishes” is, at best, in need of substantial qualification. The latter statement is, in any event, surprising from someone who wishes to take a global perspective and who is presumably aware that, on a global level, inequality has diminished rapidly over the past generation primarily as a result of the poor moving into “the middle”.
The defects in A World of Insecurity are disappointing because, with a less ideologically partisan approach, it could have been very interesting. As it is, those looking for a left of centre political programme that focuses on the current feeling of economic insecurity (albeit from a purely US perspective) would be better off reading The Wolf at the Door.
“A World of Insecurity: Democratic Disenchantment in Rich and Poor Countries” by Pranab Bardhan was published in 2022 by Harvard University Press (ISBN-13:9780674259843). 206pp.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 30 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and he is currently a member of the Panel. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the firm’s Executive Committee.
The American social psychology author, Daniel Pink, has written a number of best-selling books concerning human motivation, performance and innovation. The Power of Regret- How looking Backward Moves Us Forward continues the genre and, filled as it is with both anecdote and analysis, is an engaging and enjoyable read. A wide range of people will benefit from reading it, not just those who have to deal with regret on the part of both themselves and those for whom they are responsible in a business context.
Noting that there are over 50 books in the US Library of Congress with the title, No Regrets, Pink aims to challenge the US obsession with positivity and reclaim regret not just as an unavoidable part of mature human living but also as a means of improving decision making and performance.
The book draws on Pink’s own work with the American Regret Project and the World Regret Survey, which between them have collected and examined more than 20,000 regrets from around the world.
Pink identifies Four Core Regrets:
Foundation regrets stem from our failure to build a stable platform for our lives; the schoolwork we shirked, the debt we accrued, the drinks we enjoyed. Excess, too much or too little, often features. A simple summary of a Foundation regret is If only I had done the work.
Boldness regrets, as the name suggests, concern the chances we didn’t take, the courage we lacked. Evidence suggests that past inactions that can haunt us rather more than a past action – If only I had taken the risk.
The third category, Moral regrets, are those times when we know we have behaved badly – deceiving a spouse, cheating in a test. At the time of the act, we may convince ourselves it wasn’t so bad, but over the passage of time, we see that this is not the case. In this category (the smallest of the four) it is a past action rather than inaction that troubles us – if only I had done the right thing.
The final category (the largest of the four) is Connection regrets, which “arise from relationships that have come undone or remain incomplete” (page133). What Pink has in mind here are friendships allowed to wither, kindnesses that were not shown or interest in other people that was not expressed – If only I had reached out.
Looking further at the four regrets, Pink suggests that each of them “reveal a need and yield a lesson” (page 96). Foundation regrets, he argues reveal the need for stability whilst the lesson they yield is “Think ahead. Do the work. Start now” (page 96). Boldness regrets reveal the human need for growth and the lesson they yield “Speak up. Ask him out. Take that trip. Start that business” (page 111). Moral regrets reveal the need for goodness, the lesson is “when in doubt do the right thing” (page 129). Finally, Connection regrets reveal the need for love and the lesson they yield is “to do better next time … and (if the door is open) do something now” (page146)
Having analysed regret in this way, the final section of the book, Regret Remade “describes how to turn the negative emotion of regret into a positive instrument for improving your life”. (page 15)
The advice here consists of taking steps to undo a particular action, for example by making an apology, and where this isn’t possible to seek a silver lining to the regret. This entails being grateful that the mistake wasn’t worse and saying to ourselves “At least…” That way, writes Pink, “At Leasts can turn regret into relief” (page 165).
When regrets do threaten to become overwhelming, Pink suggests that talking about what is on our mind, not being too harsh on ourselves and putting the anxieties in perspective, through imagining others confronted with the same challenge, can be beneficial. “Looking backward can move us forward, but only if we do it right. The sequence of self-disclosure, self-compassion and self-distancing offers a simple yet systematic way to transform regret into a powerful force for stability, achievement and purpose” (page 182)
Whilst regret is a retrospective emotion, Pink describes the way in which by anticipating regret most effectively, what he calls optimizing regret, we can improve our decision making and hone our strategy for pursuing the good life.
As this outline of the book suggests, there are plenty of instances when it seems to be telling us things we already know. In some ways this is its strength. For it is a book about human behaviour and we recognize ourselves in it. Accordingly, the selected survey samples and different stories that Pink uses as illustrations are satisfying to read because we feel we know in advance what they will tell us. We find ourselves in the story.
At the same time, some of the analysis of the regrets and the responses to them can seem rather laboured. Mistakes are an everyday part of life, and we learn from them with varying degrees of effectiveness. Sometimes we will never do such a thing again whilst at other times we find ourselves being repeat offenders.
Some readers will warm to the systematic approach that Pink outlines and may change their behaviour accordingly. Others will recognize themselves in the illustrations he offers and carry on as before.
Pink focusses on the positive power of regret and, although he is aware of regret’s negative power, the book could have benefitted from further exploration of this. A sermon in which the preacher said, “To regret something is to lose the battle a second time” comes to mind. What lies behind this claim is not a refusal to learn from mistakes so much as an acceptance of who we are and where we find ourselves.
The four core regrets that Pink outlines all express themselves through “if only” and the danger of this is that it could lead to someone saying “if only I were someone else”. For there lies behind Pink’s writing an unspoken assumption that we all desire effective, high achieving and purposeful lives which are to be achieved through a combination of self-will and self-discipline. There must surely come a time when, for example, the person who has failed to be as bold as they might have been needs not just to accept that this is who they are but delight in it. In other words, their value and distinctiveness lie outside the parameters which are so often laid down by others.
Perhaps as a priest, I was bound to find this a short-coming of a book which does indeed reclaim regret and seeks to improve human living but does so from a secular perspective.
“The Power of Regret” by Daniel Pink was published in Great Britain in 2022 by Cannongate Books (ISBN-13: 978 1 83885 706 6), 240pp.
Revd Canon Andrew Studdert-Kennedy is Team Rector & Vicar of St Andrew’s, Uxbridge.
The Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics (CEME) is pleased to announce the publication of What is the Value of Business? by Richard Turnbull.
The report can be downloaded here.
A hardcopy can be purchased by contacting CEME’s offices at office@theceme.org
Business Ethics: what everyone needs to know by Josephine Nelson and Lynn Stout brings a distinctive angle to the discussion by interweaving the field of business ethics with components of law and legal practice. It also branches out into wider peripheral subjects such as philosophy, psychology, and organisational management. Josephine Nelson is Professor of Law at the Charles Widger School of Law at Villanova University, she specialises in how legal frameworks affect individual behaviour within organizations. The late Lynn Stout was Distinguished Professor of Corporate & Business Law at Cornell Law School. Her previous book, The Shareholder Value Myth was also reviewed on this website and proved to be a popular choice amongst our readers.
The ambition of the book is laid out from the onset – that is, to survey “not only moral philosophy, behavioural science, economic principles, and other contributions, but to make business-law concepts accessible and understandable to businesspeople and students of law, business, and ethics” (page xi). Fortunately, the language of the book fulfils this aim. It is clearly written and accessible to the layperson and makes only limited use of technical jargon. In instances where more specialised terms are indeed discussed (particularly in chapters referring to legal concepts), ample explanation is usually provided to assist the reader.
The book is comprised of 15 chapters and whilst at first glance may appear to be long, one third of its contents (168 pages of 513) are dedicated to an appendix of “Additional Resources and People You Can Reach Out To” (including notes). As the title suggests, the appendix offers additional resources and information for those wishing to delve deeper in the subject – some readers will certainly find this useful.
Chapters 1 through 4 open the discussion by focusing on the broader field of business ethics itself, which is defined as a “…set of moral principles that govern behaviour in a specific sphere of life: the world of business” (page 1). The authors dismiss the popularised idea that business is a cut-throat environment where individuals seek their self-advancement at the expense of others. They view this as “…misleading and inaccurate” whilst acknowledging that “…there are instances of bad behaviour” (ibid). Yet these instances are not dissimilar to other areas of life but just happen to also be occurring in the world of business. The majority of people in the private sector “…will tell you that sound ethics are integral to a successful business career” (Ibid). The book goes on to elaborate why it might be beneficial for a business to think and act ethically. The premise here is the ethics within an organisation not only benefit the organisation itself and its employees but the wider array of stakeholders and indeed society itself – ethics has a multiplier effect.
Chapters 5 through 10 bring in elements of law and legal practice and take a more practical approach to applying them in specific business scenarios. For instance, Chapter 5 addresses questions such as: “What does it mean to owe a legal duty to a partner or other natural person?” (page 61), “When do I have a duty of obedience?” (page 68), “What are duties of confidentiality?” (page 79), “What are disclosure duties?” (page 83). Perhaps more interestingly, the last question asked is “Why should businesspeople act more ethically than the law requires? Isn’t the law enough?” (page 85). The response here is that the law is simply not sufficient to promote and ensure a positive ethical business culture. In some situations it can even be the case that, “legal requirements are not ethically correct” and that “ethically correct decisions are not legally required” (pages 85-86). So there is a lot of material and food for thought in these chapters – readers who are interested in legal matters will find them particularly useful.
Chapters 11 to 15 conclude with a discussion on “How to institute best practices” (chapter 13) and “Designing an ethical culture” (chapter 14). The book emphasises the need for and importance of robust “compliance and ethics programmes” and argues that most effective ones are driven by five key principles: strategy, risk management, culture, speaking up and accountability (page 281). The importance of a “speaking up” culture is stressed in arguing that it is the key indicator of an organisation’s moral environment because it reveals, “…what it feels like to work within the company, and what employees truly understand their organisation’s expectations to be” (page 291).
The book achieves a great deal: First, it provides a comprehensive and for the most part, compelling insight into how legal matters affect ethics in business. Second, it offers practical advice on what can be done to institute an ethical culture and prevent companies from falling into organisational malaise. Third, it succeeds at remaining accessible to both the practitioner and layperson alike. However, the book is not immune from weak points. Perhaps the most evident of these is found in Chapter 3 where the aim is overly ambitious and misses the mark. In under 12 pages, the chapter attempts to integrate major philosophical schools of thought and their relation to business ethics – these include, Aristotle’s virtue ethics, Kant’s categorical imperative, Rawls principles, communitarianism and utilitarianism. The result is an inevitably shallow account that is peppered with overgeneralisations. The book’s account of Kant’s categorical imperative is perhaps the most acute example of this which will no doubt leave some readers disappointed, and others rather perplexed.
Despite these shortcomings, Business Ethics: what everyone needs to know is a worthwhile read for those with an interest in business ethics, legal matters, and the interplay between the two. While it is predominantly aimed at business and legal practitioners, those outside the field will find it thought-provoking and worthwhile.
“Business ethics: what everyone needs to know” by J. S. Nelson and Lynn A. Stout was published in 2022 by Oxford University Press (ISBN: 9780190610289, 019061028X). 513pp.
Andrei E. Rogobete is the Associate Director of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics. For more information about Andrei please click here.
Kimberly Kay Hoang is an Associate Professor of Sociology at the University of Chicago. In Spiderweb Capitalism, she both describes and draws conclusions from her research into the way in which business is conducted in Vietnam and Myanmar. Some of her conclusions do not follow from her findings, her terminology and analysis is laden with ideology and the metaphor of a spider’s web that she uses throughout the book is ear-tingling but misleading. Nonetheless, the book should be read by everyone who wishes to be aware of the problems associated with business in emerging markets, especially those who are involved in making decisions as to what business they should conduct in such markets.
Hoang poses the question “How do global elites capitalise on risky frontier markets?” and says that her goal is “to uncover the structure of the networks… to examine the people who make and move the money around the world through offshore vehicles, and… to reveal how elites finesse the gray space between legal and illegal practices to establish significant social and political connections that allow them to exploit new frontiers” (page 2).
To this end, Hoang spent several years seeking to get under the skin of business in Vietnam and Myanmar, primarily by means of a large number of discussions (sometimes lasting many hours) with founders of businesses, investors, managers, fixers and various types of professional advisers, including people based both on-shore and off-shore. She provides interesting descriptions of her methodology, the challenges that she faced in conducting research without herself becoming implicated in illegal activity and the limitations that she laboured under. The limitations were significant but it is astonishing how much Hoang managed to persuade people to discuss with her. She ponders on the reasons why they were prepared to do this and recognises the possibility that it was of some assistance that she is a woman and may, perhaps, have been less threatening to some interviewees than a man might have been. She also notes that her University of Chicago connection may have helped since “The dominant reputation of [the University] often clouded my status as a ‘leftie sociologist’ critical of elites” (page 231).
The majority of the book comprises of descriptions she was told and otherwise found out during her research. These are grouped broadly around various topics (e.g. how deals are set up, types of corruption and bribery, and tax strategies). Hoang’s style is, at times, journalistic (e.g. “It was 5:00p.m., the sun was setting…”, page (xi)) and she tells her stories well. She also seeks to set the context of her various interviews and give insights into the life and character of the various people she encountered. This both makes her accounts more interesting and provides helpful context.
One of the strengths of her accounts is that she does not deal in caricatures. She comments that she “came to understand that [the individuals involved in emerging market business] were complex, multi-dimensional people” and that “Caricatures of them that I had read both in books and in the public media did not quite resonate with my experience spending hours talking to people” (page 169). It is in this spirit that Hoang seeks to understand how the various actors rationalise their activities and even, in some cases, compartmentalise their lives so as to keep a distance between their “playing in the gray” (as she calls their activities) and their home or other private lives. She also recognises a spectrum of willingness to play in the gray: “anti-corrupters”, “greasers” and “bribers” being among the possibilities.
Likewise, Hoang acknowledges that business activities in emerging markets are themselves legally and morally more complex than is sometimes suggested. For example, it is good to see her recognising that some complex structures serve “pragmatic functions beyond secrecy and evasion… [which] include privacy, tax concerns, finessing weak local banking institutions, off-shore arbitration, access to a wider pool of global investors, asset protection from law suits, easier off-shore exits, and the ability to send and receive payment in private through designated nominees”. She also appears to accept the difference between the ensuring of secrecy (because there is something nefarious to hide) and a desire for privacy.
Readers need to be on their guard in relation to Hoang’s use of terminology, which in some cases does not correspond to normal business usage. For example, she describes transfer pricing as an accounting practice designed “to legally write off parts of the costs of the business”, (page 126). She also quotes one of her contacts as saying that “a special purpose vehicle is a paper company set up off-shore” (page 4) and appears to have adopted this definition, which may be useful in the context in which she was operating but is a very narrow conception of a special purpose vehicle.
More seriously, Hoang sometimes fails adequately to distinguish legal from illegal activities and she has a tendency to overstatement. For example, although in one place she recognises that the limited partners of an investment entity may comprise pension funds and other institutions, she focuses on individuals who are limited partners, stating that “they are all global citizens who claim citizenship in one or two countries but regularly travel all around the world” (page 28), which is unhelpful since it does not reflect the reality of many investment funds or their investors. She also states that “the world is now divided between [High Net Wealth Individuals] and poor people across developed, emerging, and frontier markets around the world” (page 19), which is an extraordinary statement bearing in mind that the growth of the middle class has been one of the most notable features of economic development in South, South East and East Asia over the past generation.
Statements such as this point to the more fundamental problems with Hoang’s book. She has conducted research into a particular type of business in two emerging markets but she wants to draw conclusions of much broader applicability. Some of her conclusions may be correct but her evidence does not demonstrate this. Myanmar is by no means a typical emerging market and, although Vietnam may be regarded as more typical, it has a particular history. It is probable that some practices in these countries are replicated in other places (e.g. Sub-Saharan Africa), but it is dangerous to make assumptions in relation to this. Hoang makes clear that cultural factors play an important part in the way in which business is conducted and one should not automatically assume that business practices are the same in places where the cultures are radically different.
Furthermore, one should not assume that the practices that are prevalent in relation to business start-ups and early-stage external investment in businesses prevail in relation to more mature businesses, particularly those which have major international funds and corporations among their investors. Hoang at times appears to recognise this (e.g. she notes that the people she was dealing with were involved in business ventures that were too small generally to hit the headlines and that businesses tend to spend time cleaning up their practices and accounting prior to moving on to the later stages of their development). However, this does not prevent her making sweeping contentious generalisations.
She says that her goal is to “give global capital a face” (page 9, emphasis original) and she seems to believe, without supporting evidence, that what she has found is representative of global capitalism as a whole. For example, she states that frontier markets “illustrate how most capital accumulation takes off through a set of transactions that are often considered corrupt and dirty” (page 10), which is a grave exaggeration. Likewise, she constantly refers to “global elites” as if they comprise the people she is studying whereas, in fact, many of these people could not by any stretch of the imagination be described as “elite” and the majority of those who may properly be regarded as the “elites” have very little to do with the kinds of investments that Hoang has studied.
All of this seems to be associated with Hoang’s ideological commitments. These are manifest in her use of loaded language, of which the metaphor of “spiderweb capitalism” is the most obvious example. She presses this analogy, suggesting that there are both “dominant spiders” and “subordinate spiders” and that “Some spiders build and repair the web, some subdue and organise the prey, still others work to keep the place clean” (page 22). Even more memorably, she asserts that “the ‘prey’ in spiderweb capitalism encompasses the public and all those who are snared in these capital webs” (page 24). This type of language may be picturesque but it is not what one would expect in an academic work and it obscures rather than illuminates the complexity of the relationships and activities that Hoang is analysing.
Much of what Hoang has uncovered is blatantly illegal or, at the very least, highly morally dubious and it undermines economies and healthy social structures. Many people will doubtless say that she merely confirms what they already knew or suspected but her findings nonetheless deserve to be studied carefully, particularly by western investors and professionals, some of whom may be tempted either to close their eyes to what is going on or naively to assume that all is well when it is not. Ultimately, however, Hoang appears to get carried away by her own metaphor and exaggerations.
Her ten page conclusion builds up to a crescendo that bears little connection to the preceding research. She asserts that “One consequence of these massive webs is the growing economic inequality between the rich and poor globally” (page 220), which accords far too much importance to the types of business that she has examined; she adds “These structural webs produce intersecting consequences, including poverty, climate change and environmental damage, and the out-migration of people” (page 221), assertions for which she has presented no evidence. She concludes: “Future generations must have the creative will to build a society with policies and protections in place to save our planet, reduce inequality, and prevent most people from becoming trapped, drained, and lost in these massive spider webs” (page 221), which is a disappointingly polemical ending to some interesting and thought provoking research.
“Spiderweb Capitalism” by Kimberly K Hoang was published in 2022 by Princeton University Press (ISBN: 978-0-691-22911-9). 240pp, plus notes.
Richard Godden is a Lawyer and has been a Partner with Linklaters for over 30 years during which time he has advised on a wide range of transactions and issues in various parts of the world.
Richard’s experience includes his time as Secretary at the UK Takeover Panel and he is currently a member of the Panel. He also served as Global Head of Client Sectors, responsible for Linklaters’ industry sector groups, and was a member of the firm’s Executive Committee.
In this latest episode of the CEME Podcast, Revd. Dr. Richard Turnbull (Director, CEME) interviews Dr Graeme Leach on the topic of God and Economics.
Graeme Leach is a professor of economic policy and a member of the Shadow Monetary Policy Committee (SMPC) of high profile UK macroeconomists. He has written numerous articles for The Times and The Daily Telegraph and had a weekly column in the City AM newspaper of London. He is widely recognised in the media, having participated in more than 150 live TV and radio interviews for BBC News, Sky News, CNBC, CNN, the BBC Radio 4 Today Programme, BBC Radio 4 World at One and many others.
Between 1997 and 2014 he worked as Chief Economist and Director of Policy at the Institute of Directors (IoD), which represented more than 30,000 company directors in the UK. He represented the IoD in talks with the Chancellor of the Exchequer and 10 Downing Street. In 2014 Graeme became Director of Economics at The Legatum Institute, a global think-tank focussed on identifying the sources of economic prosperity across the globe.
He is currently CEO & Chief Economist of macronomics, a macroeconomic, geopolitical and future megatrends research consultancy. He is also Director of Economic Futures at Global Futures & Foresight, a Senior Fellow of the Legatum Institute and a Life Fellow of the Institute of Directors.
Full video available below:
Daniel Finn holds chairs in both Economics and Theology at St John’s University and the College of St Benedict in Minnesota. He is, therefore, both a representative and exponent of the intellectual tradition within Roman Catholic thought that seeks to apply Christian thinking to economics and business.
Finn has brought together 12 authors to contribute, singly or jointly, to this volume of essays which seeks to explore the moral assessment of business from a Catholic perspective and to do so in a deeper way than the more usual debates around personal integrity or assessments of capitalism and socialism. He argues that such an approach leaves fundamental questions unanswered, although the actual content of those questions is not entirely clear. Nevertheless, this volume presents a series of essays which seeks to address the morality of business within the tradition of Catholic social thought.
The book is divided into three parts. Part one consists of two useful chapters on the perspectives of CEOs and then a reflection on the history of commerce and communion in the history of Christian thought. Part two discusses the internal dynamics of business with three chapters dealing with matters such as agency and the technocratic paradigm. Part three looks at the wider responsibilities of business including approaches to business ethics, the idea of “good goods”, the moral ecology of business and the moral legitimacy of market decisions.
The first chapter gives fascinating insights into the perspectives of three CEOs of companies ranging from a family-owned manufacturing company to a more widely held investment and banking company, one of whom spent many years as a senior executive of a large public company.
These insights are wise, incisive and illuminating. The purpose of business lies at the heart of these senior leaders’ perspectives. Business is intended to meet real needs, profit is essential. However, trust, integrity and quality products are not by-products but central to the mission of their companies. Thomas Holloran noted that during his time with a large public company the shareholders all did very well and yet the company’s mission was not about maximising shareholder wealth. Unsurprisingly, all three opt for a stakeholder model. Although I largely agree with this approach one wonders whether we may have so caricatured the idea of profit maximization that we are in danger of missing some important aspects of the purpose of business. Mary Hirschfield, in chapter 5, dealing with the technocratic paradigm, undertakes a useful exercise in setting out the main arguments in defence of profit maximization as producing socially optimal outcomes in a logical and balanced way (pp95-98). We need more of this honest debate.
All three of the CEOs also emphasised personal responsibility, culture, virtues and the moral qualities of goods and services. Thomas Holloran points out that it is a misconception that most business people are greedy or dishonest. On the contrary, he argues, most are deeply moral (pp22-23). This is an important corrective to the notion that all business is exploitative and business executives are only interested in their own success and profits.
The remaining chapters are somewhat more of a mix tackling important individual subjects but it is not always clear how they relate to the wider picture. Too many of the chapters are stand-alone narratives (albeit with attempts to cross-refer). I would have preferred a more clearly articulated overall vision rather than Daniel Finn’s very brief introduction. However, this is a relatively minor quibble and does not take away from the importance of the collection as a whole.
The strongest chapters are those that reach out further into wider debate.
One example of this is Martin Schlag’s chapter on the responsibility of business for the moral ecology in which they operate (chapter 8). Professor Schlag engages critically with two recent critics of the market, Michael Sandel and Jean Tirole. Schlag rejects the presumption that markets and morals are in opposition to each other, noting that for Thomas Aquinas, ‘it would be inconceivable to affirm that markets are amoral in their operations’ (p165). Schlag, then, is determined to make us work hard through involvement in the market rather than separation from the market. This is an important theological corrective to the points of view either that business is evil and to be avoided, or that our real calling is to Christianise business. Rather we should view business as part of God’s provision for humanity and a place to exercise Christian character and responsibility. Schlag also builds on Aquinas to remind us that private ownership entails obligations and this includes the owners and ownership of business. In this way business is an integral part of the wider ecology of economic life encouraging the flourishing of all.
Chapter 7, by Daniel Cloutier, dealing with “good goods” is a useful and interesting discussion around the nature of goods. The author identifies three categories of questionable goods, those that are defective, harmful or futile. However, these criteria are negative and not always straightforward (for example, in the case of weaponry). The criteria adopted for futile goods are more instructive. We might purchase futile goods for three reasons, according to the author, the pursuit of luxury, our own self-identification, or consumption as an end itself. The point is that they suggest, “an implied reversal about what is important in life” (page 151). This chapter also discusses the gig economy which sets up some interesting questions. Unfortunately, these are then not pursued leaving the reader feeling rather let down that the analysis had not been extended to a central feature of the modern economy.
One helpful feature of the book is the manner in which the authors of many of the chapters refer back to and locate their observations in the comments of the CEOs in chapter 1. This is a useful link of theory and practice.
I enjoyed this book and recommend it. The chapters were somewhat more disparate than I expected; all were interesting, some were outstanding. We can also give thanks that a group of theologically informed writers are both willing and able to engage with economics and business. Most of what was discussed was relevant to our common Christian tradition.
Daniel Finn asks an appropriate question in his opening sentence, ‘Can a religion whose founder taught love of neighbour as the most fundamental moral principle give moral approval to profit-seeking business firms in a global economy?’ (page 1). As James Heft noted in his Afterword, the CEO interviews reveal that all business leaders “face decisions that are often not black and white and who have to make practical judgments that involve inescapable trade-offs, situations where hard decisions have to be made” (page 222).
Elusive though the answers may remain we should be thankful for this group of scholars exploring these questions and dilemmas. We leave the last word to Professor Schlag:
‘The task of Catholic social thought is neither to be irenic nor cynical but realistic, with a realism that presents constructive, practical solutions not for the righteous but for reasonable people’ (page 174).
“Business Ethics and Catholic Social Thought,” edited by Daniel K Finn was published in 2021 by Georgetown University Press (ISBN: 978-1-64712-074-0). 245pp.
Dr Richard Turnbull is the Director of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics (CEME). For more information about Richard please click here.
A recent report by the Resolution Foundation entitled “ISA ISA Baby” proposes that the UK’s low levels of household savings be remedied by revising and expanding the Help to Save government scheme. The authors argue that this could be funded by capping ISAs at £100k which, in their eyes, “largely benefit the already wealthy”. While the report’s diagnosis of the problem is broadly correct (low levels of savings, poor take up of Help to Save, etc.), the capping of ISAs is ill advised.
A few brief observations:
When looking at ISAs we must ask ourselves what exactly constitutes ‘rich’ or ‘wealthy’? Does an earner in the top 10th percentile of the income distribution automatically qualify as ‘rich’? What about dependants or family members who rely on them for financial support? Some of them may indeed find themselves in difficult situations such as poor health or personal loss – does this so-called ‘high earner’ sound like someone likely to be splurging money? What about a family of four that after years of hard work managed to save £100k in ISA savings – does this qualify them as ‘rich’?
The reality is that the top 10th percentile of earners are not the rich or wealthy but are the very drivers of middle-class Britain. They are the small and medium business owners, the managers, the directors, the forward-thinking entrepreneurs, the doctors, the lawyers, the university professors, the scientists, and so on. They represent a key part of the fabric of society and cumulatively form the central force that moves our economy forward. Penalising them for hard work and demonstrating financial prudence sends all the wrong messages about what Britain values as a nation. We should rather be encouraging the aspirations of all to save.
Let’s not forget that for many ISAs are not extra pots of disposable cash but often represent entire lifetime savings. ISAs are used by many as an informal private pension – should a couple approaching retirement with £100k saved throughout their working lives be considered ‘wealthy’ and in need of extra taxation? This equates to a supplement of roughly £4,000 per annum which by any estimation, is hardly ‘rich’. In addition, the cap can be seen as a form of double taxation since funds placed in ISAs largely come from earnings where tax has already been paid. Then of course you have to account for the inevitable unintended consequence that those with £100k+ in ISAs will simply move their money elsewhere (the pensions – buy to let debacle springs to mind).
A comprehensive picture behind ISAs is therefore complex and intricate. With living costs at the highest level in half a century, families with life savings of £100k are not rich but very much middle-class. They have some limited financial buffer for life’s unforeseen eventualities and targeting ISAs would compromise this much-needed savings vehicle. The truly wealthy are more likely to have a Swiss bank account or trust fund – they do not rely on ISAs. A recent article in The Times reported that even among the ‘super-rich’, the UK’s appeal is unfortunately diminishing with over 1,400 millionaires having left the country in 2022 alone.
In The UK Savings Crisis: Rediscovering the Principle and Practice of Saving, I spoke about the need of promoting key societal virtues such as prudence and cultivating a broader culture of saving. This starts with early education and continues well into working adulthood. Unfortunately, our educational system does virtually nothing with regard to equipping students in basic financial budgeting and planning. It should therefore come as no surprise that government schemes such as Help to Save suffer from poor adoption rates – less than 1 in 10 eligible have signed up to the scheme. The wider picture, of course, points to a combination of associated factors: a lack of awareness and understanding of the scheme, burdensome red tape and bureaucracy and long wait times for the funds to be released (two tax-free bonuses of up to £600 each over 4 years with the initial bonus to be received only after the first 2 years have elapsed). All these make for a rather unappealing proposition for struggling families that are more focused on paying the bills at the end of each month than waiting two years for a maximum £600 government bonus. So schemes that encourage savings do indeed need to be reformed and made more accessible. However, these changes needn’t come at the expense of restricting or capping ISAs.
Policies in the sphere of savings have the dual challenge of not only assisting those on low income but also promoting a wider environment where hard work and prudent financial behaviour is rewarded and encouraged. People’s innovative spirit, determination, resilience, and discipline should not be penalised through additional thresholds of taxation.
Capping ISAs at £100k certainly generates headlines (and entertaining reactions on YouTube), but what is the real cost if it leads to lousy policy? Those of us in the think tank world need to step back for a moment, look beyond the mere numbers and ask ourselves: what are the wider societal implications of our proposals and what specific moral virtues are we trying to encourage in the long run?
Andrei E. Rogobete is Associate Director at the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics. For more information about Andrei please click here.
Barry Eichengreen is Professor of Economics and Political Science at the University of California, Berkeley. His economic and economic history research focuses on monetary and financial systems, and he is an author of over 20 books, among them Golden Fetters: The Gold Standard and the Great Depression, 1919–1939, Globalizing Capital: A History of the International Monetary System, and The European Economy since 1945: Coordinated Capitalism and Beyond.
Eichengreen’s and his co-authors’ In Defense of Public Debt is organised into 14 chapters, tracing the history of public debt from its earliest origins in the Greek city–states and the Roman Republic, and arriving at the Covid economic scene (the book was published in September 2021). Each chapter focuses on a specific time period with its particular theme and relevant cases studies. For example, Chapter 3 “States and the Limits of Borrowing” recounts the fiscal and political developments primarily in the European states in the sixteenth–eighteenth centuries that augmented commitment to repay debts and enabled more borrowing; it also identifies certain ‘impediments’ (such as fiscal decentralization and competition) that limited states’ abilities to borrow more.
The book reads like a history of public debt, and in that respect, it presents a thorough historical account of the topic. In addition to analysing the overall levels of public debt, the authors also examine the development of the actual methods of public borrowing, creditors’ rights and representation, and the role of banks and various intermediaries. Readers may be pleased to find that the history of taxation and monetary systems are interwoven into this historical narrative of public debt.
In the introduction chapter, the authors promised to give a “balanced account” of public debt; curiously, “balanced” was meant as “placing more weight on the positive aspects than is typical of the literature” (page 5). Even so, the positive aspects put forward in this book are often vague. There is surprisingly little discussion of the use and efficiency of public debt, beyond the general recognition that states have historically relied on borrowing to fund wars, invest in infrastructure, social services, and, more recently, to bail out the financial sector and bankroll public services during a pandemic. The readers are expected to take it for granted that debt is used to fund vital causes. Yet are all uses of debt equally sound and defensible? This question is mostly ignored, except for some hints that spending on general consumption would not be as desirable as spending on investment. It admits that even though budget surpluses should be pursued to reduce debt when the economy is growing, this is difficult to achieve in practice. When it comes to generating primary surpluses, the book’s proposed answer is always higher tax, rather than spending cuts.
Eichengreen’s book leaves one with an impression that there is economic evidence of a positive relationship between public debt and economic growth. This relationship is meant to act as a “positive feedback” in the economic growth models, whereby “The link from public debt and its role in financial development to faster growth, and from faster growth back to financial deepening and economic development, is just such a feedback” (page 212). Among other things, we learn that with respect to foreign borrowing in the nineteenth century, “Countries that borrowed more invested more and grew faster on average, suggesting that issuing sovereign debt paid” (page 7), with a concession in the Notes section that evidence of a positive link “is weaker for the twentieth century” (page 228). However, a more balanced account of public debt would have had to mention the ample economic evidence of a negative relationship between high levels of public debt and economic performance. For example, most recent economic studies on this subject identified a negative link between high public debt and economic growth; there is also a tipping point threshold (in the range of 70% to 100% of GDP) when debt begins to have a significantly detrimental effect on growth (see, for example, De Rugy, V. and Salmon, J. Debt and Growth: A Decade of Studies).
This is not to say that Eichengreen’s book does not mention any negative aspects of public debt, as it does recount examples of heavy interest payments, defaults, and, in worst cases, loss of sovereignty. Yet even though the various debt default episodes make for interesting reading, they ignore the subsequent harm caused to society, and do not show the full extent of the social and economic miseries experienced during such episodes. Moreover, the negative aspects are often presented as examples of debt mismanagement or perils of public debt, even though they could in fact point to more systemic issues.
The question of morality of accumulating public debt does appear towards the end of this book, yet the moral arguments against public debt, as well as those making these arguments, are presented here in a dismissive tone: “They fret”, “worry”, “complain” (page 181). Readers appreciating the vital link between market and ethics may find it strange to see moral objections to public debt being dismissed outright as not belonging to the economic realm, with the authors suggesting that “there was also another view, in which debt was viewed in economic rather than moralistic terms, and where its issuance was seen as a solution to problems, not as their source” (page 182). Yet as already noted above, plenty of recent economic evidence shows high levels of public debt having a detrimental effect on economic performance; thus, even when analysed in economic terms, debt is hardly a solution. Meanwhile, moral issues stemming from public debt, such as the distributional and intergenerational justice issues, raise serious dilemmas that deserve to be answered.
The lack of a response to these moral arguments is but one of the questions left unanswered. Another one, just as problematic, relates to how to deal with rising debt in the future. This book does not engage with the alarming long–term projections of public debt. For example, the UK public sector net debt as a share of GDP is forecast to quadruple by 2070 to 418% of GDP (Office for Budget Responsibility Fiscal Sustainability Report – July 2020). Developed countries will be faced with growing social security and healthcare costs (which have not been pre–funded and are further hampered by unfavourable demographic circumstances), raising more issues for the policymakers. Even with respect to the immediate public debt situation, Eichengreen’s book concedes “there are no simple solutions” (page 223), noting the possibility of runaway inflation (even though the book was sceptical about such a development), the dangers of higher interest rates, and the limited prospects of economic growth or budget surpluses.
Unfortunately, the fears of sharp inflation and rising interest rates have already materialised by mid–2022. This brings us back to the moral issues with debt, namely, to the responsibility of architects of fiscal and monetary policy for the economic pain presently being inflicted upon the wider society. Eichengreen’s book referred to debt as a temptation to which politicians may succumb to. This demonstrates that there is more to public debt than pure economics, and that those seeking a way out of the looming debt crisis should not dismiss the ethical arguments against public debt after all.
Those looking for a truly balanced account of public debt will need to look elsewhere but there is much of value in this book for those interested in economic history.
“In Defense of Public Debt” by Barry Eichengreen, Asmaa El–Ganainy, Rui Esteves and Kris James Mitchener was published in 2021 by Oxford University Press (ISBN-13: 9780197577899). 320pp.
Kaetana Numa, PhD is Research Fellow at the Centre for the Study of Governance and Society, King’s College London.
