Mining boom makes little sense

Conventional economic analysis assumes the behaviour of businesses is always rational but, in reality, the booms and busts that cause the ups and downs of the business cycle are driven by emotion more than rational calculation: unwarranted optimism, greed, impatience, short-sightedness and herd behaviour. Consider our resources boom.

The ideology of economic rationalism says private enterprise can do no wrong; ill-advised behaviour by business arises only through its rational response to distorted incentives created by the misguided interventions of governments.

This confers on the demands made by business a sanctity the captains of industry are quick to exploit. But their demands often aren't in the community's wider interest.

Now we're emerging from the decade-long resources boom it's easier to view the process with greater insight and make a more sober assessment of its costs and benefits.

What happened was a huge jump in the world prices of coal and iron ore as China's period of rapid economic development of heavy industry and infrastructure caused global demand to outstrip global supply.

The surge in China's demand caught the world's mining industry unprepared.

Like miners in other countries, our largely foreign-owned miners lapped up the huge increase in prices and profits.

But it didn't take long for greed ("the profit motive", if you prefer) and the irrational optimism that drives the world's entrepreneurs to take over, with companies seeking to exploit the high prices to the full by expanding their production capacity as much as possible as fast as possible.

What then kicked off was a multibillion-dollar race - between rival companies in a country, but also with the many companies in other countries, all expanding their capacity as fast as they could.

It takes a long time to build new mines and bring them into production. So the chances of your mine being completed in time to enjoy the super-high prices aren't great - the more so because it's essentially a self-defeating process: the more companies join the race and the harder they try to be among the first to complete, the sooner supply catches up with demand and prices start falling.

If mining companies were more rational, fewer would join the race. But companies are just as subject to herd behaviour as investors in a booming sharemarket. A mining chief who didn't join the comp would be subject to heavy criticism.

This is where the irrational optimism comes in. Each individual entrepreneur is in no doubt he'll be among the race's winners. We're gonna make a motza.

But while the miners are busy gearing up, their foreign customers are just as likely to be coming towards the end of their own boom in investment and construction. The inevitable result is that the global mining industry moves from a starting point of undercapacity to an end point of overcapacity.

This is the eternal story of mining. Only in passing is it ever in equilibrium; it's almost always in either under or oversupply - probably spending a lot more time over than under, the less profitable of the two conditions.

Now, this cycle isn't news to conventional economics, with its familiar "cobweb theorem" and "hog cycle" seeking to explain the phenomenon. But these models put too much of the blame on the unavoidable delays in increasing production, and too little on animal spirits.

And they don't prepare us for all the waste and inefficiency involved in a resources boom. In the miners' race to be first in and best dressed they compete furiously for resources, bidding up hugely the prices of labour, equipment and materials, and ending up with mines that cost them far too much to build.

They also develop lower-grade mineral deposits, the exploitation of which becomes uneconomic as soon as the world price drops back from its record heights.

In the aftermath of the boom, many acquisitions are written off, the chief executives who presided over these excesses get the chop and are replaced by bosses whose main skill is cost-cutting. They make speeches about how excessive Australian wages are.

Anyone who has followed the fortunes of our big three - BHP Billiton, Rio Tinto and Glencore Xstrata - will know just what I'm talking about.

In their race-driven frenzy to start new projects, the miners always portray themselves as impatient for God's will to prevail, with any politicians or community members who have doubts about allowing them to rip up the environment denounced as agents of the anti-progress devil.

In the aftermath of such booms we realise we should have refused to be rushed. Why does no economist ever warn us to be less short-sighted? Their faulty model.

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Darwin improves on Adam Smith

What can the theory of evolution tell us about how the economy works? A lot. But probably not what you think it does.

Famous economists such as Joseph Schumpeter (author of the notion of "creative destruction") and Milton Friedman, and the contemporary economic historian Niall Ferguson, have viewed economies as Darwinian arenas: competition among firms reflects the ruthless logic of natural selection. Firms struggle with each other, with successful firms surviving and unsuccessful ones dying.

Thus evolution seems to support three pillars of the conventional, neoclassical model of the economy. First, that "economic actors" are self-interested, second, that self-interest works to the good of the public (propelling Adam Smith's "invisible hand") and, third, that together these lead the market to deliver the community ideal outcomes ("optimisation").

But there's a basic fault in this contention, as Dominic Johnson, of Oxford University, Michael Price, of Britain's Brunel University, and Mark van Vugt, of Amsterdam's VU University, point out in their paper, Darwin's Invisible Hand.

In conventional economics, "economic actors" can be either individuals or firms, although the theory tends to treat firms as though they were individuals. In reality, however, firms are groups of individuals - in the case of big national and multinational companies, thousands of them in one firm.

So if Darwinian selection applies to competitive markets, this implies that selection pressure acts on groups, not individuals. And group selection, as opposed to conventional Darwinian selection at the individual level, leads to the emergence of traits that act against self-interest.

With group selection, "we should expect the suppression of self-interest among individuals, not its flourishing", the authors say.

"Firms with less self-interested workers will compete more effectively and spread at the expense of firms with more self-interested workers, which will compete less effectively and decline. In other words, the model predicts nasty firms but nice people.

"Firms vie for market share and profits, group selection would predict, while individuals within those firms sacrifice their own interests for the good of the group. They will work long hours, accept low status and low salaries, co-operate with each other, share resources, accept hierarchy, obey their bosses, volunteer for extra duties and never help - or move to - rival firms."

Does that sound realistic to you? No, me neither.

"In reality," the authors say, "firms are made up of individual human beings, with various goals and motives but, most importantly, considerable self-interest.

"Darwinian selection at the level of groups implies that the interests of group members are weaker or synonymous with the interests of the group as a whole. In the real world, they are not. There is often some overlap, of course: the boss will want his workers to perform well; the workers will want the firm to survive.

But we also have strong personal desires for salary, status, rank, reputation, free time and better jobs.
"In short, any evolutionary model must account for two opposing processes that operate simultaneously: competition between firms and competition between the individuals within them."

So the authors are adherents to a relatively new school of thought holding that selection occurs at both levels: "multi-level selection theory". And this leads them to conclude that taking account of the role of evolutionary selection doesn't really bolster the conclusions of the neoclassical model.

Economic actors are self-interested only sometimes. Self-interest promotes the public good only sometimes. And these things mean markets produce optimal results only sometimes.

Great. But where does that get us? The authors argue that being more realistic by integrating the factors at work at group level with those at work at the individual level allows us to make better predictions on which interests - individual or group - will dominate in particular circumstances.

"A one extreme, if selection among groups is frequent and severe, we may expect an increased alignment of individual and group interests resulting in successful firms with hard-working, groupish, highly committed employees," they say.

"At the other extreme, if selection among groups is rare and weak, we may expect increased conflicts of interest resulting in inefficient firms and lazy, self-interested workers."

By group selection they mean cultural selection - some ideas and practices beat others - not biological selection. And, because ideas can spread so quickly, not needing to wait for genetic evolution to occur generation by generation, cultural evolution is much faster and more powerful.

The authors say competition between firms may be a quintessential example of cultural selection.

A weakness of the neoclassical model is that it exalts competition between economic agents while ignoring the co-operation within firms that is such an important part of real-world competition in markets.
The evolutionary approach, however, does much to illuminate the role of co-operation.

"Individuals are adapted to co-operate in groups but do so in individually adaptive ways," they say. "That is, we are co-operative, but only so long as our own individual costs and benefits are taken into account."

People want to be rewarded for their contribution but also to see that their reward doesn't compare badly with the rewards fellow workers are getting relative to their contribution.

But whereas the conventional economic model focuses on only monetary rewards and punishments, the evolutionary approach predicts that individuals will be powerfully motivated to strive for social status and prestige within their firm, even at the expense of material rewards or the risk of punishment.

The evolutionary approach also offers a better explanation of why individuals would want to take on stressful and time-consuming leadership positions, which are not always compensated by higher salaries: higher social status rewards.

The key to improving the performance of firms, we're told, is not to strike some inefficient compromise between the interests of individuals and their group but to work with the grain of human nature to bring individual and group interests into alignment. If you know what you're doing, this can be achieved relatively easily and at low cost.

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Our ever-rarer elixir: restraint

There's a paradox at the heart of modern capitalist economies: if they really worked the way economists think they work, they wouldn't work for long, they'd seize up. And as the Yanks have been busy demonstrating, it's a similar story for modern democracies.

Economists believe the motivating force driving market economies is self-interest: businesses and consumers do what they do purely for their own benefit. But the "invisible hand" of market forces transforms all this selfishness into a system by which everyone benefits.

Although most economists prefer the euphemism "self-interest", Professor Paul Frijters, of Queensland University, prefers to call it "greed" in his path-breaking book written with Dr Gigi Foster, of the University of NSW, An Economic Theory of Greed, Love, Groups and Networks.

Frijters argues that a variety of "institutions" is required to ensure individuals' greed doesn't prevent the operation of free markets. If people will do anything to increase their material wealth, as implied by the Homo Economicus view of humanity, why would they simply pay the prices traders wanted to charge? Frijters asks.

"Why would they not, for example, steal products or production technology, kill competitors, or in some other way seek a market advantage through dishonest or immoral behaviour?" he asks.

Because of the existence of formal and informal institutions. Formal institutions include parliaments that pass laws prohibiting certain behaviour and police and courts that enforce those laws.

But ask yourself this: is your knowledge that it's illegal and that you risk being punished the only reason you don't steal from shops, your employer or your neighbours? Do you adhere to contracts only to avoid having to defend your behaviour in a court case with the other side?

Of course not. Even where we're confident of not getting caught, almost all of us refrain from doing those things because we don't believe they're the right thing to do. And there is any number of perfectly legal things we could do, but choose not to. So our behaviour in the marketplace - or in politics - is also constrained by a host of informal institutions, such as notions of fairness, conventions, customs, rules we've internalised and other norms of socially acceptable behaviour.

"Formal and informal institutions in combination are important in the running of societies, as together they form the rules of the game to which people adhere. They constrain the possibilities for opportunistic behaviour in human interactions," Frijters says.

This isn't the first time the US Congress has refused to pass the budget and thus shut down the US government, but it's rare. The Financial Times' Martin Wolf, doyen of the world's economics editors, observes that if President Obama's political opponents are prepared to inflict such damage on their own country, "the restraint that makes democracy work has gone".

Dr Chris Caton, of BT Financial Group adds: "Thank god that couldn't ever happen in Australia!" Not half.

Just as we need social norms to restrain our instinctive selfishness and so keep the economy functioning smoothly, we need restraint among the players in the political game to ensure we don't descend into impasse and policy impotence. But as the Americans' appalling predicament reminds us, restraint isn't a given, and can't be taken for granted. Our selfishness does propel the economy onward and upward, but when voluntary restraint breaks down - almost always egged on by competition - we can end up with greedy bankers causing the devastation of the global financial crisis.

Similarly, we need our adversarial two-party system of democracy to keep a check on the corruption and incompetence of governments, but when personal ambition and party rivalry become unrestrained, government suffers.

The sweeping economic reforms of the Hawke-Keating era were made possible by John Howard's principled restraint in providing bipartisan support. But bipartisanship in the interests of good government ended with Labor's opportunistic scare campaign against Howard's GST.

Tony Abbott returned the favour with his ruthlessly dishonest scare campaigns against the carbon tax and the mining tax. Now how do you think Labor will react should Abbott propose a controversial reform in this term or the next?

The self-seeking, short-sighted, rivalry-fanned lapse in restraint by both sides makes further major economic reform highly unlikely until, by some hard to imagine means, the former norms of acceptable political behaviour are restored.

But don't blame it all on the politicians. That's too easy. As Professor Ross Garnaut observed in May, the past dozen years have seen "interest groups" - I'd say industry lobby groups - become less inhibited in pursuing private interests at the expense of the wider public interest, ferociously resistant to reform proposals involving private costs to them, and willing to pursue their private interests by costly ad campaigns and party donations.

Less restraint, less reform.

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Economist proposes a socio-economic model

What can economists tell us about love and power, why people are loyal, how groups form and how they get their members to abide by the group's norms of acceptable behaviour? Not much.
Everyone knows conventional economics is built on a stick-figure conception of humans and the way they work.
 
Until now. An economics professor at the University of Queensland, Paul Frijters, has attempted the remarkably ambitious project of developing a unified theory of human behaviour, turning the mainstream model of the economic system into a model of the socio-economic system.

With help from Dr Gigi Foster, of the University of NSW, he's set it all out in the book An Economic Theory of Greed, Love, Groups and Networks. We'll find out soon enough what the rest of the economics profession makes of it.

He starts with the principles of mainstream economics, then adds and integrates selected ideas his research has determined have considerable power in explaining human behaviour.

The bit he starts with, which comes straight from the mainstream, is the assumption that humans are carefully calculating maximisers of their personal benefit. Or, as Frijters prefers to put it, ''humans are mainly motivated by greed''.

This conception of ''homo economicus'' - economic man - emerged in the Enlightenment period. In the early Middle Ages, by contrast, materialism was seen in society as strongly immoral, Frijters explains.
Even so, it's a quite one-dimensional conception of human behaviour. We're a lot more complicated than that. This assumption accounts for much of the criticism of conventional economics (including from yours truly).

So the ''core concepts'' Frijters adds to the conventional assumption of ''greed'' aim to broaden the model's explanation of human motivations and behaviour.

The first concept he adds is ''love'', by which he means love for other humans, but also love for one's beliefs. ''Love is defined as a form of unconditional loyalty, and will be said to be present whenever a person would be willing to help advance the interests of the object of his love, even if the object of his love would not notice the help and even if the loving person would receive no observable reward,'' Frijters says. So love includes the ideas of altruism and loyalty.

''Selfish materialism is extremely powerful in explaining many of our laws, our customs, our politics, and our choices as consumers. Yet selfish materialism alone cannot lead to the kind of human organisations we see in reality.

''I expect to see love as a major player involved in almost every facet of an individual's decision making ? Love within companies should be an integral part of how teams of people actually get things done within organisations.''

Another major criticism of the simple model of conventional economics is its assumption that each of us acts only as an individual, unaffected by the behaviour of those around us. This means no ''economic actor'' has more power than another.

In truth, humans are a group animal whose self-image is inextricably linked to the groups of which they are part. And the reality is that the dominant power relations in modern societies aren't between one individual and another, but rather between individuals and groups.

So the second feature Frijters adds to the mainstream view is groups and the power they generate. Each of us is a member of any number of groups, affecting our family life, social life and working life. Beyond that, our religion, ethnicity and nationality make us members of more, often powerful, groups.

It's because groups generate and exercise power that they need to be added to the model. Power is the ability to influence the behaviour of others. Part of this power comes from the development of norms of acceptable behaviour within the group. Many of us feel considerable loyalty to the groups we're in, which partly explains why we confirm to group norms.

Frijters argues there are five basic types of social groups: small hierarchies, with a clear leader, a few of high rank and a group of underlings totalling no more than a few dozen individuals in all; small circles of reciprocity, with people who are equals and share a common goal; large hierarchies, where members don't know each other; large circles of reciprocity; and networks.

Networks are his third addition to the mainstream view. They are facilitators of exchange - of goods and services, or just information. They exists because of the need to overcome ''frictions'' in markets arising from the information and transactions costs the simple mainstream model assumes away.
Individuals search for goods, buyers and suppliers within networks of small size or large anonymous networks such as the internet.

So how does Frijters' model improve on the answers to questions from the mainstream model? What questions does it answer that the mainstream can't?

On the common questions of whether international trade should be encouraged or protected against, what governments should do about monopolies and how to discourage firms from polluting, his model doesn't much change the conventional answers.

But it can answer some questions the conventional approach can't. With its assumption of calculating, self-interested behaviour, the old approach can't explain why people go to the bother of voting when the chance one vote will change the outcome is minuscule.

Frijter's model says people vote because they're idealistic and identify with the group that is Australian voters.

Nor can the old approach explain why people don't avoid or evade paying tax a lot more than they do. Rates of ''voluntary compliance'' are, in fact, surprisingly high (though not as high as in the old days).
Frijter's model says people feel loyalty to the group of fellow Australians and conform to the social norm that paying taxes is a form of reciprocity that's reasonable to expect of members of the group.

And this is no idle question. He says getting people to pay taxes is probably the single most important ingredient supporting our system of governance.

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In the business game, less is often more

It's a holiday, so let's talk about sport not business - for openers, anyway. Indoor handball is a team sport where players face a constant stream of quick decisions about what to do with the ball: pass, shoot, lob or fake?

Players have to make these decisions in an instant. Would they make better decisions if they had more time and could analyse the situation in depth?

In an experiment with 85 young, skilled handball players, each stood in front of a screen, dressed in his uniform with a ball in his hand. On the screen, video scenes of high-level games were shown. Each scene was 10 seconds long, ending in a freeze-frame.

The players were asked to imagine they were the player with the ball and, when the scene was frozen, to say as quickly as possible the best action that came to mind.

After these intuitive judgments, the players were given more time to inspect the frozen scene carefully, and name as many additional options as they could. For instance, some discovered a player to the left or right they had overlooked, or noticed other details they weren't aware of under time pressure.

Finally, after 45 seconds they were asked to conclude what the best action would be. In about 40 per cent of cases this considered judgment was different from their first choice.

OK, that's enough fun. Back to business. We live in a business world where the thinking of educated people has been heavily influenced by rational analysis. For instance, one rational conclusion is that to make good decisions we need the best information possible. To be better informed is to perform better.

These days, all switched-on managers know they need an adequate business information system - the right "metrics" - to be fully informed about their business's performance and so be able to make the right decisions to keep it scoring goals.

To the rationally trained person, more information is always better and more options to choose from are always better. Economists add the qualification that information is often costly, so you shouldn't keep collecting it beyond the point where the additional cost exceeds the additional benefit.

Practical managers know there's a trade-off between speed and accuracy. It's good for decisions to be as accurate as possible, but it's also good for decisions to be made without much delay. So the smart manager finds a happy medium between accuracy and speed, knowing they're sacrificing some accuracy for a speedy decision.

Back to handball. This experiment was recounted by German psychologist Gerd Gigerenzer, of the Max Planck Institute in Berlin, in his book Gut Feelings. To measure the quality of the actions the players proposed, the experimenters got professional-league coaches to evaluate all proposed actions for each video.

They found that, contrary to the notion of a speed-accuracy trade-off, taking time and analysing didn't generate better choices. The players' gut reactions were, on average, better than the actions they chose after reflection.

Indeed, the order in which possible actions came to the players' minds directly reflected their quality: the best came to mind first, the worst came last. This result is consistent with many experiments showing that, though the inexperienced need to think it through carefully before they take a golf shot, drive a car, or tie their shoe laces, the experienced do better if they don't think about what they're doing but simply do what comes naturally.

This is consistent with another finding that chicken sexers, chess masters, professional baseball players, award-winning writers and composers are typically unable to explain how they do what they do.

In some circumstances, more information and more time to process it is better. But a surprising amount of the time less turns out to be more.

Gigerenzer says this will be so in cases where we're relying on unconscious motor skills. It's also true when the limits of our brain power mean we make better decisions if we don't confuse ourselves with too much conflicting information.

Our brains seem to have built-in mechanisms, such as forgetting a lot of things and starting small, that protect us from some of the dangers of possessing too much information.

A famous experiment involving selling different flavours of jam in a supermarket found that having too many choices leads to decision-making paralysis. Offering a choice of six led to more sales than a choice of 20. It doesn't follow, however, that offering an even smaller choice would increase sales further.

Gigerenzer's other conclusion - of particular relevance to business decision-making - is that empirical testing can reveal simple rules of thumb that predict complex phenomena as well or better than complex rules do.

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Being smart and being logical aren't the same

Years ago, a leading American teaching hospital admitted a 21-month-old boy we'll call Kevin. He was pale and withdrawn, drastically underweight, had constant ear infections and was refusing to eat. He'd been neglected by his parents.

A young doctor took charge of his case. He hated having to draw blood from Kevin's emaciated body and noticed the boy refused to eat after being poked with needles. Intuitively, he kept invasive testing to the minimum and instead tried to provide the boy with a caring environment. Kevin began to eat and his condition improved.

But the young doctor's superiors didn't approve of his unconventional efforts. So a host of specialists, each interested in applying a particular diagnostic technology, set out to find the cause of the boy's illness. If he dies without a diagnosis, we've failed, they reasoned. Over the next nine weeks Kevin was subjected to batteries of tests, which revealed nothing decisive. He stopped eating again, so the specialists sought to counter the combined effects of infection, starvation and testing with intravenous nutrition lines and blood transfusions.

But Kevin died before his next scheduled test. The doctors continued testing at the autopsy, hoping to find the hidden cause. One doctor commented: "Why, at one time he had three IV drips going at once! He was spared no test to find out what was really going on. He died in spite of everything we did!"

That story is told by a distinguished German psychologist, Gerd Gigerenzer, of the Max Planck Institute, in what many academics would call his hugely "counter-intuitive" book, Gut Feelings.

But here's the trick: what university-trained people are encouraged to regard as "intuitive" isn't intuitive at all. It's what all their learning has led them to believe is the right way to think or act. In this, academic sense of the word, it was the specialists who were acting intuitively: their training told them they couldn't begin to help the boy until they'd first correctly diagnosed his problem.

Thanks to this way of thinking, they tested him until their actions helped to kill him. But the way Gigerenzer uses the word, it was the young doctor who acted on his intuition, casting his professional training aside and trusting his gut feelings.

Gigerenzer's point? In this particular case, the young doctor was right to trust his instinct and his better-trained and more experienced superiors were led astray by all their learning.

What's more, he claims, cases where relying on your gut feelings rather than on careful analysis leads to better decisions are surprisingly common.

But such a conclusion - itself based on Gigerenzer's scientific (if controversial) research - is, in the academic sense of the term, hugely counter-intuitive. It's the opposite of what educated people would expect.

It's a mistake to imagine only economic rationalists are on about rationality. Ever since the Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries, virtually all university teaching has stressed the need for reasoned, logical analysis. You make decisions by gathering all the relevant information you can, then weighing it up carefully and logically.

Economic rationalists assume that's the way we really do make decisions. But the American psychologist Daniel Kahneman - whose life's work is beautifully summarised in his book Thinking, Fast and Slow - won the Nobel prize in economics for demonstrating that the vast majority of the decisions we make are made unconsciously, instantaneously and instinctively.

Kahneman showed that these unconscious, snap decisions are based on deeply ingrained mental short-cuts, or rules of thumb, which psychologists call "heuristics". He further argued that a lot of these heuristics are illogical and so cause us to make many bad decisions. This is the basis for the title of the well-known book by the behavioural economist Dan Ariely, Predictably Irrational.

But this is where Gigerenzer begs to differ. He argues that in many but not all circumstances, the heuristics we use lead to good decisions - better decisions than we'd make if we took the time to gather more information and think the decision through.

And this is true even though many heuristics seem to the educated mind to be illogical. Why? Because we often must make decisions almost instantly, because deliberation can get in the way of our unconscious motor skills, because gathering information has costs (not all of which are monetary), because the future is uncertain no matter how much we know about the past, and because of our "cognitive limitations" - too much information confuses us and makes us indecisive. What's more, some information can mislead us, containing "more noise than signal".

Gigerenzer's research contradicts two core beliefs of economists and other rationalists: more information is always better and more choice is always better. Rather than building complex decision-making systems that take account of as many factors as possible, we should search for "fast and frugal" decision rules that are shown to work most of the time. Spending less time on some decisions can actually improve them.

Relying on intuition or gut feelings isn't acting on impulse or caprice. This is because our brain's use of its intelligence isn't necessarily conscious or deliberate.

"The intelligence of the unconscious is in knowing, without thinking, which rule is likely to work in which situation," he says.

"What seem to be 'limitations' of the mind can actually be its strengths."

The logic-based approach to decision-making "assumes that minds function like calculating machines and ignores our evolved capacities, including cognitive abilities and social instincts. Yet these capacities come for free and enable fast and simple solutions for complex problems ...

"Logic and related deliberate systems have monopolised the Western philosophy of the mind for too long. Yet logic is only one of many useful tools the mind can acquire. The mind, in my view, can be seen as an adaptive toolbox with genetically, culturally and individually created and transmitted rules of thumb," he concludes.

Don't get Gigerenzer wrong. His line of argument is in no way anti-intellectual. Rather, he's used his intellect and the scientific method to challenge conventional thinking about how our intellect works.

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Economists show racism alive and well in Oz

Australians aren't racist - and even if some people are, you and I certainly aren't. It's true, of course, that many of us are terribly stirred up about the arrival of so many uninvited boat people. And both sides of politics vie to be seen as harsher in their treatment of these interlopers. Then there's Julia Gillard's new-found concern about foreigners getting to the head of the jobs queue.

But this has nothing to do with racism. Gillard reassured us in the 2010 election campaign that we should say what we feel in the asylum-seeker debate without being constrained by self-censorship or political correctness.

"For people to say they're anxious about border security doesn't make them intolerant. It certainly doesn't make them a racist," she said.

It may surprise you that racial discrimination has long been a subject of study by economists - particularly American economists and particularly as people's "taste for discrimination" relates to the labour market.

Two economists from the University of Queensland, Redzo Mujcic and Professor Paul Frijters, will publish the results of a natural field experiment on Thursday in which trained "testers" of different ethnic appearance got on buses in Brisbane, discovered their travel card wouldn't work, but then asked the driver to let them to make the trip anyway.

Various testers did this more than 1500 times. Overall, the driver agreed in almost two-thirds of cases.

But whereas the success rate for testers of white appearance was 72 per cent, for testers of black appearance it was just 36 per cent.

Testers of Indian appearance were let on 51 per cent of the time, whereas those of Chinese, Japanese or Malaysian appearance were allowed to travel about as much as Caucasians were.

On average, bus drivers were 6 percentage points more likely to favour someone of the same race. Black drivers tended to be the most generous, accepting in 72 per cent of cases, compared with 54 per cent by Indian drivers and 64 per cent by Asian and white bus drivers.

If you think that's interesting, try this: to test the importance of how people were clothed, the testers were then dressed in business suits with briefcases. The success rate of whites rose by 21 percentage points and the combined rate for blacks and Indians rose to 75 per cent.

Next, the testers were dressed in military clothes. The success rate of whites rose by 25 percentage points while the combined rate for blacks and Indians rose to 85 per cent.

As a follow-up, the researchers then conducted a random survey of bus drivers at selected resting stations in Brisbane, presenting them with pictures of the same test subjects and asking the bus drivers whether they would let them on or not with an empty travel card.

Some 80 per cent of the bus drivers at resting stations indicated they would give free rides to Indian and black test subjects, even though in reality less than 50 per cent were let on.

Indeed, bus drivers said they would let on white subjects 5 percentage points less often than black subjects, whilst in reality white test subjects were favoured at least 40 percentage points more than black testers.

The main reason given for not letting someone on was it was against the rules, while the main reason to let someone on was it was no burden to do so.

It's all a bit disturbing - if not so surprising - but how do we make sense of it? And what's it got to do with economics?

Frijters, perhaps Australia's leading exponent of "behavioural" economics, is developing an economic theory of groups: the different types of groups and how and why they form. All of us feel an affinity with a range of groups. Businesses and government agencies are groups, but there can be groups within those groups; working teams as well as sporting teams. Mixed in with all this are in-groups and out-groups - people we want to associate with and people we don't.

Often we form groups so as to co-operate in achieving some goal. And groups often involve reciprocation - I do you a favour in the expectation that, when my need arises, you'll do me one.

So Frijters explains the results of his experiment in terms of group behaviour. "People with Indian or black complexions are more likely to be treated as an out-group and less worthy of help compared to Caucasians and Asians," he says.

"The reason bus drivers were more reluctant to give black and Indian help-seekers a free ride was that they did not personally relate to them."

When testers were sent to bus stops in military clothes this made them appear to be patriots, defending the same community as the bus driver. So the drivers' original out-group reaction could be overcome by in-group clothing.

The more favourable treatment of testers in business dress suggests the "aspirational groups" of the bus drivers include people richer than themselves, people with more desirable visual characteristics. That is, people the drivers regard as part of their in-group.

If all this sounds more sociological or to do with social psychology than with economics, it is. But that's the point of behavioural economics: to incorporate insights from other social sciences into economics.

And what have groups got to do with economics? That's simple: the objective of many groups is to give their members greater control over economic resources.

Frijter's new book, An Economic Theory of Greed, Love, Groups and Networks, written with Gigi Foster, will be published this month.

Can't wait.

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Behavioural economists smarten up government

SINCE it's the summer hols, let me ask you a few personal questions. Do you sometimes fail to read every word of the official letters you get? Do you put off filling in forms or delay paying parking fines or taxes? Are you ever less than scrupulously honest on government forms?

If so, I have news: the economists are on to you. Actually, it's the behavioural economists, and their thing isn't to punish you but just make it easier for you to be a good boy or girl.

Behavioural economics is particularly suited to politics and public policy because it's the study of how people make decisions in real life, not how they'd behave if only they were "rational", which they aren't.

When David Cameron became Prime Minister of Britain he did something new, setting up a "behavioural insights team" within his cabinet office. Its job was to apply the insights of behavioural economics (most of which come from psychology) to government operations and see if they improved things.

The team decided to start with the related problems of fraud (people claiming benefits they aren't entitled to), error (people inadvertently giving wrong information) and debt (people not paying what they owe the government).

Earlier this year the team issued a report on how it was getting on. It estimated fraud was costing British taxpayers about $14 billion a year. Error was costing $6 billion and unpaid debt up to $5 billion a year.

Traditional attempts to combat fraud, error and debt have tended to assume people rationally weigh up the personal costs and benefits of non-compliance by comparing the amount they expect to gain with the probability of being caught and the size of the punishment.

The usual approach seeks to increase compliance either by increasing the penalties or increasing the chance of being caught.

But humans don't behave like that. The vast majority of people don't commit fraud or avoid paying debts. And they don't because they have a strong sense of moral obligation, justice and fairness, which is shared by those around them.

So maybe you can reduce non-compliance by finding ways to reinforce such social norms. And maybe people give wrong information or end up doing the wrong thing for much less sinister reasons of mere human fallibility.

After scouring the academic literature, the team has come up with seven insights that should help increase compliance, which it is now testing using randomised controlled trials.

The seven have one thing in common: rather than ordering people to do things they don't like doing, they seek to go with the grain of how people behave.

Insight one is: make it easy. Make it as straightforward as possible for people to pay tax or debts. For instance, you can spell out in order the steps people need to take to do what's required of them.

Or you can make it easier for people to submit a tax return by pre-filling the form with information the government already knows. With computers and online forms, this is now much easier to do - as our Tax Office has shown. It also reduces error.

Insight two is: highlight key messages. Draw people's attention to important information or actions required of them, for example, by highlighting them upfront in a letter.

Eye-tracking research suggests people generally focus on headings, boxes and images, while detailed text is often ignored, the report says. The front pages of letters receive nearly 2? times the attention back pages do.

Britain's Inland Revenue has a program offering doctors an opportunity to bring their outstanding tax payments up to date before official action and penalties. When it compared its usual letter with a simplified version using plain language, key messages and required actions highlighted at the top of the letter, the response rate jumped from 21 per cent to more than 35 per cent.

Insight three: use personal language. Personalise language so people understand why a message or process is relevant to them. New technology is making it easier and cheaper to address mass mail-outs to people by name. Giving people a name and number to contact may get a better response than pointing to a general helpline.

Sometimes Inland Revenue needs people to contact it to arrange repayment of tax credits they weren't entitled to. It's been trialling different versions of the letter it sends. People in the control group were sent a letter simply stating the phone number to call, and 13 per cent responded. Others were sent a letter framed as a personal message urging them not to overlook the opportunity to get in touch. That one had a response rate of 24 per cent.

Insight four: prompt honesty at key moments. Ensure people are prompted to be honest at the start of forms rather than the end.

Most people are honest most of the time. Most people, rightly, think of themselves as honest, the report says. And, because we have an inherent desire to be consistent with our self-image, well-placed reminders should encourage greater honesty, the report says.

Insight five: tell people what others are doing. To take advantage of and reinforce social norms, highlight the positive behaviour of others. Provided it's true, for instance, tell people that "nine out of 10 people pay their tax on time". This can correct mistaken perceptions.

Inland Revenue experimented with letters designed to get people to increase their tax debt payments. Compared with the control letter, those quoting the national social norm produced a 5 percentage-point improvement in the response, those quoting the social norm in your postcode got an improvement of more than 11 points and those quoting the norm for your town produced an improvement of more than 15 points.

Insight six: reward desired behaviour. Actively incentivise behaviour that saves time or money. Sometimes just saying thank you helps. Or you can put people's names in a prize draw. Rewarding good behaviour may work better than punishing bad behaviour. But be careful the use of rewards doesn't crowd out intrinsic motivation - doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do.

Finally, insight seven: highlight the risk and impact of dishonesty. Emphasise the risk of getting caught, but also the consequences of my dishonesty for the welfare of others.

You think economists give airy-fairy, impractical advice to governments? Not the new breed of behavioural economists.

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How our political prejudices affect confidence

I've realised we won't be satisfied with the state of the economy until the Liberals get back to power in Canberra. That's not because Labor's so bad, or because the Libs would be so much better, but because so many people have lost confidence in Labor as an economic manager.

The conundrum is why so many people could be so dissatisfied when almost all the objective indicators show us travelling well: the economy growing at about its trend rate, low unemployment, low inflation, rising real wages, low government debt - even a low current account deficit.

And yet the media are full of endless gloom, not to mention endless criticism of the Gillard government. Last week the NAB indicator of business confidence dropped to a 10-month low. And while the Westpac-Melbourne Institute index of consumer confidence recovered almost to par, that's a lot weaker than it ought to be.

Admittedly, the good macro-economic indicators do conceal a much greater than usual degree of structural adjustment going on. But these adjustments - which are generally good news for consumers - seem to be adding to the discontent rather than the root cause of it.

The Gillard government has been far from perfect in its economic policy, but you have to be pretty one-eyed to judge its performance as bad. Similarly, only the one-eyed could believe an Abbott government would have much better policies. It's likely to be less populist in government than it is opposition but, even so, Tony Abbott is no economic reformer.

Gillard's problem is not bad policies, it's Labor's chronic inability look and act like our leader and command the public's respect and comprehension. This is a government that doesn't believe in much beyond clinging to office, and the punters can smell its lack of principle.

To be fair, on the question of economic competence Labor always starts way behind the ball in the public's mind. Decades of polling reveals the electorate's deeply ingrained view the Libs are good at running the economy and Labor is bad.

This is what feeds both the Libs' born-to-rule complex - their utter assurance that all Labor governments lack legitimacy - and Labor's barely concealed inferiority complex.

The Hawke-Keating government did manage to turn the electorate's conventional wisdom on economic competence around for most of its 11-year term.

Labor in its present incarnation has never been able to pull this off. It's lost its race memory of how to govern. All this is compounded by the manner of Gillard's ascension, her non-maleness, her inability to make the punters warm to her and the uncertainties (and broken promises) of minority government. But the problem was apparent before Labor decided it could stomach Kevin Rudd no longer.

It's true the media environment is more unhelpful than it was in Hawke and Keating's day. Increased competition has made the media more relentlessly negative - more uninterested in anything but bad news - which must eventually have some effect on the public's state of mind.

In their search for a new audience in response to the challenge of the digital revolution, part of the media has become more partisan and more unashamedly hostile to all things Labor.

You see this in the radio shock jocks, but also in the national dailies, which have adopted the Fox News business model of telling a section of the potential audience what it wants to hear, not what it needs to know.

It seems a universal truth of the commercial media that the right-leaning audience is both more numerous and better lined than the left-leaning.

So, for instance, a favourite commercial tactic at present is to search for, and give false prominence to, all stories that portray our almost-dead union movement as a threatening monster about to engulf big business.

Boosting productivity equals making industrial relations law more anti-union. End of story. When Treasury people give speeches that fail to echo this infallible truth it's a clear sign they've been "politicised" and we need to find a few hyper-ideological economics professors to misrepresent what they said.

When Hawke and Keating were in power, business leaders judged it wise to keep their natural political sympathies to themselves and work with the elected government.

But with Gillard so far behind in the polls, so ineffective in maintaining relations with big business, with the general media so anxious to accentuate the negative and a significant part of the serious press telling them how badly they're being treated and holding out a microphone, it's not surprising big business people have become so unusually vocal in their criticism of Labor.

When God's in his heaven and the Libs rule in Canberra, business people jump on anyone they consider to be "talking the economy down". But so great is their loathing of the Gillard government that business is leading the chorus of negativity. How they see this as in their commercial interest I'm blowed if I know.

While John Howard was in power, the index of consumer sentiment showed respondents who intended voting for the Coalition to be significantly more confident about the economy than those intending to vote Labor. At the time of the 2007 election, however, the two lines crossed and Labor voters became significantly more confident than Coalition voters.

The latest figures show the overall confidence index at 99, while the Labor voters' index is up at 124 but the Coalition voters' index down at 79. Since Coalition voters far outnumber Labor voters, it's clear a change of government would do wonders for measured consumer confidence.

The same would probably be true for measured business confidence. Suddenly, business would be back talking the economy up, and the partisan media would revert to backing up our leaders rather than tearing them down.

But how much difference that would make to the objective economic indicators is another question.

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Economists have no lock on economic understanding

Many people don't realise the economics we hear from politicians, business people, economists and the media, morning, noon and night, is just one way of analysing how the economy works.

Almost everything we're told about what causes what is inspired by the "neoclassical" model. It's long been by far the dominant way of explaining why things happen and predicting what will happen, but it's not the only way. And it's far from infallible.

This conventional economics reduces all economic activity to that which happens within markets. It further narrows the operation of markets to the setting of prices, assuming movements in relative prices are the primary thing influencing the behaviour of producers and consumers.

It thus abstracts from the role of "institutions" - be they organisations, laws or conventions - in influencing market behaviour, so often leads economists to make policy recommendations that prove seriously misguided.

After the fall of communism, for instance, many economists urged the leaders of the formerly planned economies to switch to market-based economies in one big bang.

Since few people knew how to behave in a market economy, it was a disaster.

Only after economic activity had contracted massively did economists realise it was naive to assume that markets could be created out of thin air.

In the 1990s, the International Monetary Fund urged the emerging economies to open up to the free inflow of foreign capital. The result was the Asian financial crisis of 1997-98, when all the foreign capital flowed back out, leaving devastation in its wake.

Only then did economists realise that the developed economies were able to cope with swirling capital flows because of a raft of government-created institutions that had been developed over centuries: well-developed commercial law, with independent courts to enforce contracts; bankruptcy laws to deal with failed businesses; audited financial statements that were roughly believable, and so forth. Developing countries possessed none of these stabilising institutions.

Economic sociologists study the behaviour of markets, but put much emphasis on determining the role of norms of acceptable behaviour. For conventional economists to assume our behaviour in economic situations is heavily influenced by price changes but not by social norms is quite silly.

But for a good example of the way different analytical models can draw different conclusions about the same problem, consider an old economists' favourite: the "tragedy of the commons".

In situations where a piece of land is available for use by different farmers to graze their animals, it's likely to become overused and degraded. Similarly, common fishing areas are likely to be overfished, perhaps to the point where fish disappear. Common logging forests will be overlogged and laid waste.

Although the modern version of this ancient problem, that was used to justify Britain's "enclosure movement" many centuries ago, was first put forward by an ecologist, economists leapt on it with glee. It was clearly a problem of property rights.

Because no one owned the common area, no one had an economic incentive to look after it. Indeed, each individual had an incentive to get in and use as much of it as possible, as quickly as possible, before other individuals used it up.

So what was everyone's property was actually no one's property - and that was the essence of the problem. Many economists thought it obvious that the solution was to allocate private property rights over the commons.

Who they were allocated to, and how they were allocated, didn't matter much. What mattered was that once someone owned the asset, they would have the economic incentive to look after it and prevent its degradation.

In all probability they would continue to make it available to existing users, but at a price. That price would discourage those people from overusing it, while also providing the private owner with both the motive and the means to keep the asset in good repair.

Neat, eh? Of course, there were also some who saw the solution as having the government take over the common property, maintain it and allocate its use on some fair basis.

But there was one obdurate woman who, lacking an economics education, wasn't impressed by the economists' neat analysis of the problem and thought there might be another, better solution - if, indeed, it was a problem.

She was Elinor Ostrom, a professor of political science at Indiana University, who devoted much of her career to combing the world looking for examples where people had developed ways of regulating their use of common resources without resort to either private property rights or government intervention.

As The Economist records, she found forests in Nepal, irrigation systems in Spain, mountain villages in Switzerland and Japan, and fisheries in Maine and Indonesia. In all these cases people drew up sensible rules for sharing the use of the resource and combined to perform regular repairs. People who broke the rules were fined or eventually excluded.

"The schemes were mutual and reciprocal, and many had worked well for centuries," the magazine says.

For her pains, Ostrom, who died last month, was awarded the Nobel prize in economics in 2009, the first woman so honoured. Few economists had heard of her, or her model-busting work.

Why had this solution to the problem never been considered by economists?

Because of their model's implicit assumption that we only ever act as individuals, never collectively. We compete against each other, but we never co-operate to solve mutual problems.

And, since all the market's benefits come via competition, co-operation by producers is probably an attempt to rig the market, which should be outlawed.

The community pays a high price for allowing one model of how the economy works to dominate the advice we get and the way we think.

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Present gloom is more political than economic

The release of two downbeat indicators of business and consumer confidence last week serves only to deepen the puzzle over the gap between how we feel and what the objective indicators are saying about the state of the economy.

My theory is we have two-track minds. Many of us are thinking gloomier than we’re acting.

As you recall, the national accounts from the Bureau of Statistics show real gross domestic product growing by a remarkable 1.3 per cent in the March quarter and a rip-roaring 4.3 per cent over the year to March.

The bureau’s latest labour force figures, for May, show employment growing by an average of 25,000 a month over the first five months of this year, with much of the growth in the ‘non-mining’ states.

I never take the initial reading of frequently revised estimates too literally. The governor of the Reserve Bank, Glenn Stevens, has noted the annual growth figure is probably inflated by a catch-up effect following the disruption to economic activity caused by the Queensland floods early last year. He’s willing to say only that the economy’s travelling at about ‘trend’ (3.25 per cent a year).

Now Dr Chris Caton, of BT Financial Group, has advanced his own theory to explain the surprisingly strong 1.3 per cent growth in the March quarter. He notes the inclusion of a leap day in the quarter - so it contained 91 days rather than the usual 90 - may have thrown out the bureau’s seasonal adjustment process.

Some components of GDP would have been adjusted for this ‘trading-day effect’, but many may not have. Sounds far fetched? Caton looked back over the five previous leap years, finding the March quarter growth figure exceeded the average rate of growth for the three preceding and three subsequent quarters in four of those years, with the excess for the five years averaging 0.46 percentage points.

But even if you accept Stevens’s judgement the economy’s growing at about trend - which I do - you’re still left saying it’s doing a lot better than implied by the gloominess of business and consumer confidence as we conventionally measure them.

NAB’s business survey for May showed business conditions (the net balance of respondents regarding last month’s trading, profitability and employment performance as good) fell to their weakest level in three years.

To put this in context, the conditions index is now 5 points below its long-term average since 1989, but nothing like as bad as it got during the global financial crisis of 2008-09, let alone the recession of the early 1990s.

The index of business confidence (how the net balance of respondents expects conditions to change in the next month) is saying something roughly similar. NAB says the survey implies GDP growth will slow to an annualised 2 per cent in the June quarter.

The Westpac-Melbourne Institute index of consumer sentiment rose a fraction in June to 96, down almost 6 per cent on a year earlier. It’s pretty low, though at nothing like the depths to which it sank in 2008-09.

The overall index can be divided into two bits, the current conditions index and the expectations index. In June the conditions index rose by 6 per cent, whereas the expectations index fell by 4 per cent. And whereas the conditions index stands at 104, the expectations index is a 90.

I’m a great believer that the mood of consumers and business people does a lot more to drive the business cycle than it suits most economists to admit (because their theory tells them little about what drives confidence and, in any case, it’s not easy to be sure what you’re measuring).

So it pains me to admit that, at present - and not for the first time - the conventional confidence indicators seem to have been bad predictors of what HAS happened in the economy, and don’t look like reliable predictors of what WILL happen.

I think there’s a gap between how people are feeling and how they’re acting. How consumers and business people feel is a function of their direct experience and what their peers are saying and doing, but also of what the media is telling them about the wider world.

They probably give a lot more weight to the former than the latter. Direct experience tells them things aren’t too bad; interest rates have dropped a long way in the past six months and, despite all the media stories, they’ve seen little in the way of job losses close to them.

On the other hand, the media are bringing them a lot of worrying news about Europe and elsewhere. It seems pretty clear this is having a big effect on how they feel. It’s less clear how much it has affected their behaviour - so far, at least.

I suspect the present mood - as opposed to present behaviour - is also affected by political sentiment. A lot of people have decided - rightly or wrongly - the economy is being badly managed.

The NAB business survey showed 47 per cent of respondents believed the May budget would have a negative effect on their business. This seems a huge overreaction to the one piece of bad news for business in the budget: the cost of a cut in the company tax rate of a mere 1 percentage point was instead being paid into the pockets of business’s customers.

And consider this: when you divide the consumer sentiment index according to federal voting intention you find the index for Labor voters stands at 119, whereas the index for (the far greater number of) Coalition voters is down to 82.

Perhaps the main thing the confidence indicators are telling us is something we already know: the Gillard government is highly unpopular with consumers and business people.

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Why we can't read the economy without help

The nation's economists, commentators and business people got caught with their pants down last week. They'd convinced themselves the economy was weak, but the Bureau of Statistics produced figures showing it was remarkably strong.

It's not the first time they've failed such a reality test. They prefer not to think about such embarrassing, humbling occurrences, but it's important to ask ourselves why we got it so wrong.

The bureau told us real gross domestic product grew by 1.3 per cent in the March quarter and by 4.3 per cent over the year to March. Then it produced labour force figures for May, showing employment has been growing at the rate of 25,000 a month this year, with much of that growth in NSW and Victoria.

So why is there such a yawning gap between what we thought was happening in the economy and what statistics say is happening?

Well, one possibility is the figures are wrong. That's likely to be true - to some extent. They're highly volatile from quarter to quarter and month to month, and much of that volatility is likely to be statistical "noise" rather than "signal".

But the financial markets, economists and media knowingly add to the noise by insisting on using the seasonally adjusted figures rather than the trend (smoothed seasonally adjusted) figures as the bureau urges them to. Truth is, both markets and media have a vested interest in volatility for its own sake - it makes for better bets and better stories.

However, even if the latest figures are likely to be revised down, their "back story" still contradicts the conventional wisdom. Cut March quarter growth back to the 0.6 per cent economists were forecasting and you're still left with above-trend annual growth of 3.6 per cent.

Consumer spending may not have grown by as much as 1.6 per cent in the March quarter, but - and notwithstanding all the retailers' complaints - it's been growing at above-trend rates for a year.

Another argument embarrassed economists are making is that the March quarter figures are "backward looking". All the news since March has been bad. They always use that excuse. But there's nothing out of date about job figures for May, and they, too, tell a story of strengthening growth.

If you accept, as you should, the figures are roughly right - especially viewed over a run of months or quarters - you have to ask how our perceptions of the economy have got so far astray from statistical reality.

It's less surprising business people's perceptions are off the mark. They're not students of economic theory or statistical indicators; their judgments are unashamedly subjective, based on direct experience and the anecdotes they hear from other business people, plus an overlay of what the media tell them.

More surprising is the evidence economists' judgments and forecasts aren't as rigorously objective and indicator-based as they like to imagine. They're affected by the mood of the business people they associate with and aren't immune to the distorted picture of reality spread by the media (because they highlight events that are interesting - and, hence, predominantly bad - rather than representative).

Like the punters, business people probably overestimate the macro-economic significance of falls in the sharemarket - particularly when our sharemarket is taking its lead from overseas markets reacting to economic news in the US and Europe that doesn't have much direct bearing on our economy.

Similarly, all the bad news from America and, particularly, Europe we're hearing from the media night after night can't help infecting our views about our economy. We're getting more economic news from China these days but we hear about the threats rather than the opportunities.

The familiar refrain about the alleged two-speed economy is tailor-made for the media but, as last week's figures make clear, an exaggeration of the truth. Consumer spending is reasonably strong in the non-mining states, as is employment growth this year.

In the absence of anything better, economists and the media persist in setting too much weight on the bureau's quarterly figures for state final demand, unaware they give an exaggerated picture of the differences in gross state product between the mining and non-mining states (because Western Australia and Queensland use much of their income to buy goods and services from NSW and Victoria).

The risk is the more we repeat the two-speed story to ourselves the more it becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy. This may be part of the explanation for the weakness in non-mining business investment spending, but as yet it doesn't seem to have affected consumer spending.

The media's highlighting of announced job lay-offs is a classic example of the way their inevitably selective reporting of job movements leaves the public, business people and maybe even economists with a falsely negative impression of the state of the labour market.

A recent list of 25 lay-off announcements showed total job losses of 17,000. When people wonder how the bureau's employment figures could be right when we know so many jobs are being lost, they're showing their ignorance of how selective media reporting is and how big the labour market is.

In a workforce of 11.5 million people, job losses of 17,000 are peanuts (though not, of course, to the individuals involved). Far more than 17,000 workers leave their jobs every month and far more take up jobs every month. The media tell us about just some of the job losses and about virtually none of the job gains.

The unvarnished truth - which none of us can admit, even to ourselves - is we think we know what's happening in the economy, but we don't. We're too fallible, and it's too big and complicated.

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How to improve investment advice to retirees

They say that at every stage of life the baby boomers reach, the world changes to accommodate their needs. So now the boomers are starting to reach retirement, it's the investment advisers' turn to lift their game.

To date, the superannuation industry's greatest attention has been paid to the accumulation phase: how much people need to save to ensure an adequate income in retirement. But the boomers' interest is switching to the retirement phase: how their savings should be managed to best effect.

And there are signs financial planners are working to improve the advice they give retirees. This seems clear from a recent speech by Dominic Stevens, of the annuities provider Challenger. Stevens made extensive use of an article by Joseph Tomlinson, "A Utility-based Approach to Evaluating Investment Strategies", published in the US Journal of Financial Planning. I'll be drawing on both sources.

To date, most advice to retirees has focused on "asset allocation" - how their investments should be divided between shares and fixed-interest securities - and on setting a safe rate at which money can be withdrawn and spent without it running out before the retiree dies.

Tomlinson's objective is to provide advice that is less one-size-fits-all, encompasses more eventualities and incorporates the insights of behavioural economics. These days, computers make it easier to provide more accurate advice and deliver it in user-friendly programs.

Remember, no one knows what the future holds. Who knows what will happen to the sharemarket - or any other financial market? So advice is based on reasonable assumptions and on averages, and advisers seek to estimate expected returns.

But more can be done to allow for the personal preferences of the particular retiree and to take account of the range of likely outcomes around the average.

The first issue is the "risk-return trade-off". The higher returns some investments offer - shares versus fixed interest, for instance - usually reflect a higher degree of risk: risk you won't get your money back, and risk that returns will vary a lot from year to year. It's generally accepted that old people who need to live off their savings can't afford to run the same degree of risk as young people with many years to recover from sharemarket setbacks.

These days more attention is being paid to "sequencing risk". Say you need to live off your savings for 15 years and it's reasonable to expect there'll be two bad years for the sharemarket in that time. Just when those two years occur makes a big difference.

If they come late, it won't be so bad; if they come early you could be almost wiped out and never recover. This suggests retirees need to hold more of their savings in fixed interest than many do.

In any case, most people are "risk averse". Consider this choice: which would you prefer, the certainly of earning $100, or a 50 per cent chance of earning nothing and a 50 per cent chance of earning $200?

If you were "rational" you wouldn't care either way because both options have the same "expected value" (for the second: 50 per cent of $0 plus 50 per cent of $200 equals $100).

If you much preferred the certain $100, that makes you risk averse (and normal). If you fancied the chance of walking away with $200, that makes you a "risk seeker". Risk aversion is pretty much the only departure from "rational" behaviour that economists regularly allow for.

A vital question in working out how much of your savings you should withdraw each year (a common rule of thumb is 4 per cent) is how long you'll live. You can't know, of course.

The advisers' standard approach is to look up in the government's actuarial life tables the average life expectancy for someone of your sex and age.

If the answer was 20 years, this would be used for your planning. But a lot of people will fall a bit below or a bit above the average, and Tomlinson's more sophisticated calculations take account of this wider range of probabilities. At present, the main objective in setting your withdrawal rate is to ensure you don't suffer "plan failure" - run out of money before you die.

The alternative to running out is to die with money left - the "bequest amount".

Conventional economics assumes that, dollar for dollar, your pain at having your money run out before you're ready to die would be equal to your pleasure at knowing you'll be leaving a bequest to your relos.

But this seems highly unlikely. As Stevens argues, if a retiree was living on $30,000 a year and that dropped to $20,000, it would have a more profound negative effect that the positive effect of income increasing to $40,000.

The two psychologists who pioneered behavioural economics, Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, call this "loss aversion" (as opposed to risk aversion). They found that most people hate losing $100 about twice as much as they like gaining $100. Since running out of money before you die is a much bigger deal than losing small sums while you're working, it's likely retirees' loss aversion is a lot greater than the usual rate of 2:1. Some preliminary surveys suggest it might be as high as 10:1.

If so, this means retirees' desire to avoid running out of money (and having to fall back on the age pension) is a lot stronger than investment advisers' conventional calculations assume. And this, in turn, suggests retirees' choice of investments ought to be a lot more cautious than it often is.

Tomlinson argues that particular retirees' degree of loss aversion ought to be taken directly into account when determining the best investment strategy to meet their needs. When you do so, the bottom line of the calculation is not the average expected return on their savings but the average expected utility from those savings.

His refinement takes account of the possible size of plan failure - whether your savings are gone one year before you die or 10 years - not just whether or not failure is likely.

It also acknowledges the size of bequests is likely to suffer from diminishing marginal utility. Each extra dollar gives you less satisfaction than the one before.

Shifting the focus from expected returns to expected utility could make investment advisers' advice a lot more realistic and thus a lot more helpful.

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Herd behaviour, fashion and status seeking

Think for more than a moment about the causes of the global financial crisis - the fallout from which is still hurting the US and Europe - and you realise herd behaviour had a lot to do with it.

People paid extraordinarily high prices for houses because they felt they were trailing the Joneses. Brokers sold unsound mortgages because they had to keep up with rival brokers. Funds managers - remunerated according to their relative performance against other managers - traded shares with the same motive.

So, the study of herd behaviour must be a pretty important part of economics, right? Wrong. Between 1970 and the onset of the crisis only nine out of 11,500 articles in three esteemed economic journals discussed herd behaviour. And when they did discuss it they usually viewed it as "informational learning" - learning what I should do from your behaviour. If you hear a fire bell and see people running for the exit, you don't inquire further, you just join them.

Yeah, sure. That explains it. Fortunately, one economist who's taken a great interest in herding is Professor Andrew Oswald, of the University of Warwick, in Britain, and the IZA research institute, in Bonn. Oswald spoke about herd behaviour and keeping up with the Joneses at a conference this week to celebrate the contribution of Professor Ian McDonald, of Melbourne University.

Unlike his peers, Oswald has spent his career crossing the boundaries between economics and the other social sciences. Now he's forging links with the physical sciences and is on the board of editors of the journal Science.

On herding, Oswald took his lead from a seminal zoological paper written in 1971. "Before that article, the standard theory in biology was that herds had some inexplicable communitarian instinct," Oswald says. But the article argued that an animal clusters with others because its relative position is what matters. When you're being threatened by a predator, clustering with others reduces the chance it will pick you as its prey.

What has this to do with humans? Just our preoccupation with our position relative to others. Our desire to be in fashion - to wear what our peers are wearing - is motivated subconsciously by our strong desire to keep up.

And falling back worries us because it involves dropping down the status ladder. So, our often demonstrated desire to do what other people are doing seems to show a deep, though unconscious, concern to defend or advance our status (or rank) relative to others.

Economists have long been suspicious of survey evidence, of asking people what they think about things or why they do things. It's too subjective; how can you be sure they're telling you the truth? This is one of the profession's reservations about the study of happiness (of which Oswald has been a leader among economists).

So, Oswald has been interested in finding more objective ways to measure feelings such as happiness. When I compare your rating of your satisfaction with life with your spouse's or your friend's rating of your satisfaction, do they line up? (Yes, they do.)

He's done a lot of work using the British medical profession's system for rating people's mental health, rather than just asking people how they feel about their lives.

Another approach is to use magnetic resonance imaging (MRI scanning) to see what happens inside people's brains when they have certain feelings or encounter certain ideas.

Yet another approach Oswald is pursuing is the use of "biomarkers": can changes in a person's physiology - their heart rate or blood pressure, say - tell us about what they're thinking and feeling?

Oswald quotes the results of a study by German economists who put pairs of people in adjacent brain scanners and asked them puzzle questions, with money rewards for correct answers. They found that outperforming the other guy had a positive effect on the reward-related parts of the brain. People compare themselves with others and enjoy feeling they're winning.

You reckon that's pretty obvious? Not to an economist. Their standard model assumes away all interpersonal comparison. My likes and dislikes ("preferences") are unaffected by other people's preferences and never change over time.

Raise my income by $10 and my satisfaction ("utility") increases. Raise my income by

$20 and there's a commensurately greater increase in my utility. Raise my income by

$10 while you increase my mate's income by $20 and I won't mind a bit.

Actually, we know from happiness research that relative income (how my income compares with yours) has a big effect on how satisfied people feel with their lives.

Oswald asks whether our satisfaction from social status accelerates or decelerates as we increase in status. That is, does our pursuit of status bring increasing marginal utility or decreasing marginal utility?

This question is still being researched empirically. Oswald quotes the case of top tennis players. The gain in utility from going from being third in the world to second is likely to be much bigger than the gain from going from eighth to seventh.

But increasing marginal utility is probably limited to the very top of the status ladder, with diminishing utility applying to most of us.

We know, for instance, that though people with high incomes are happier than those with low incomes successive increases in income buy progressively smaller and smaller increases in satisfaction with life.

Another thing we know is that the rising average real incomes the developed economies have achieved over the decades haven't led to any increase in average levels of satisfaction.

This raises what Oswald calls a "disturbing possibility". "Maybe modern society is stuck," he says. "Individually, we chase higher income and 'rank', but for society as a whole this cannot be achieved."

Here's another worry: "Herd behaviour is often very natural and individually rational. But it has the potential to be disastrous for the group," he says.

"When rewards depend on your relative position it will routinely be dangerous to question whether the whole group's activity is flawed, and be rational simply to compete hard within the rules that govern success."

In the dotcom bubble a decade ago - where the shares of internet companies that had never made a dollar of profit traded for ever more ridiculous prices - those analysts who said it made no sense got fired.

"In financial markets, people are now routinely rewarded in a way that depends on their relative performance" - whether they're in the top quartile, second quartile or whatever. "That's dangerous," he concludes.

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Moneyball shows competition isn’t always a winner

One of my favourite films for this year was Moneyball. Ostensibly, it's the story of how the real-life Billy Beane (Brad Pitt), general manager of the Oakland As baseball team, took the second-poorest team in the comp almost to the top.

At a deeper level, it's about how the super-cool guys of professional baseball got beat by the nerds.

It's about how the science of statistics can tell us things we didn't know about our world.

It's about the ultimate make-or-buy decision facing businesses: do you select and train up your own people, or go out and poach someone whenever you need a new heavy-hitter.

But, above all, it's about how competition in markets can fail to live up to its advertising. (If you didn't catch all those levels, read the book by Michael Lewis - much better than the movie.)

Professional baseball in America is a market. All the teams are privately owned businesses, the owners of which are out to maximise profits.

(That's in theory. In practice, many of the owners probably treat their team as an indulgence - a way to enjoy their fortune - as much as a way to increase their fortune; an end as much as a means.)

Beane was so short of money he turned to a bunch of highly educated baseball tragics, who thought studying a potential player's statistical record through high school and college baseball was a better way of predicting his success in the big league than relying on the judgment of talent scouts.

Much to the amazement and disapproval of the traditionalists - and despite their opposition - Beane and the nerds were proved right. Eventually, other teams started copying their methods.

This says to me that, contrary to the assumption of the economists' conventional model, all the guys running all the teams weren't playing for keeps until Beane and his nerds came along.

They wanted to win the comp, but they wanted to win while playing by the unwritten rules - the game's long-established social norms - of how you should go about winning.

To them, picking players by resort to a laptop full of statistics was almost as unsporting as using performance-enhancing drugs.

Here's the point: they didn't want to win for the money - as the model assumes - they wanted to win to impress the other guys in the comp. They were playing a game, not profit-maximising.

Economists portray competition as the foolproof path to efficiency and affluence. And the idea of living in an economy without competition - where everything was supplied by monopolies, whether privately or publicly owned - has zero appeal. Competition does help keep people on their toes.

But competition isn't the unmitigated blessing economists often assume it to be. As I discussed on Saturday, Robert Frank, in his latest book, The Darwin Economy, elucidates the case where competition leads to socially wasteful arms races, where what's good for the individual isn't good for the group.

The conventional model assumes we seek to maximise absolute values: businesses maximise profits, consumers maximise utility.

In real life, however, we're often more concerned about relative values: with how our salary compares with other people's, with whether our firm has the biggest market share. We care most about how we rank.

A related competitive failure occurs when firms (and the individuals who make them up) break (Hugh) Mackay's Law of competition: focus on the customer, not your competitor.

Thanks to their defective model of human behaviour, economists assume we compete only in response to monetary incentives. They forget the urge to compete is hardwired in the brain of the human animal.

We compete because we enjoy competing. We compete because we want to see how we rank in the comp - and we're confident we'll rank well. This, much more than greed, is what motivates the world's billionaire entrepreneurs.

We compete to impress the other players in the game. But when we do, we break Mackay's Law and our efforts don't benefit the community the way the model predicts.

Speaking of misguided competition, consider this from The Economist's Schumpeter column: "The vast majority of American universities are obsessed by rising up the academic hierarchy, becoming a bit less like Yokel-U and a bit more like Yale.

"Ivy League envy leads to an obsession with research. This can be a problem even in the best universities: students feel short-changed by professors fixated on crawling along the frontiers of knowledge with a magnifying glass.

"At lower-level universities it causes dysfunction. American professors of literature crank out 70,000 scholarly publications a year, compared with 13,757 in 1959.

"Most of these simply moulder: Mark Bauerlein of Emory University points out that, of the 16 research papers produced in 2004 by the University of Vermont's literature department, a fairly representative institution, 11 have since received between zero and two citations.

"The time wasted writing articles that will never be read cannot be spent teaching.

"In Academically Adrift, Richard Arum and Josipa Roksa argue that over a third of America's students show no improvement in critical thinking or analytical reasoning after four years in college."

Clearly, and despite all its virtues, competition can sometimes do more harm than good. But don't be so sure the American unis' misguided motivations could easily be corrected by applying some KPIs - key performance indicators.

It's a safe bet those universities have already been using KPIs to reinforce their academics' obsession with publishing or perishing.

In Australia, our governments have long allowed academic-dominated research councils to hand out research grants in ways that discourage our academics - certainly the economists - from researching Australian issues.

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How to get more bang from your bucks

The retailers may be worried we aren't spending enough this Christmas, but that doesn't mean most of us aren't spending a fair bit. We always do. And, of course, for those of us off on summer holidays, the spending doesn't stop on Christmas Eve.

Economists are great apostles of efficiency, which they advocate so we have more money to spend on consumption. Strangely, however, they have little interest in how efficiently we spend our money. Are we spending it in ways that maximise the satisfaction (or "utility") we derive? They hardly know or care.

For advice on consumption efficiency we must turn to the psychologists - particularly those who study happiness (another word for utility). Earlier this year three famous psychologists, Elizabeth Dunn, of the University of British Columbia, Daniel Gilbert, of Harvard, and Timothy Wilson, of the University of Virginia, published an article called, If money doesn't make you happy, then you probably aren't spending it right.

The truth is, once you've satisfied your basic needs, getting and spending more money is a progressively less effective way to make yourself happier. The more you spend, the less effective each extra dollar becomes.

But that's partly because some forms of spending are more satisfying than others, and Gilbert's research shows humans aren't very good at predicting what will make them happy.

So the authors propose some principles that psychological research suggests will help us get more bang from our bucks. One that's particularly apposite at this time when we celebrate the birth of Santa is: help others instead of yourself.

Somebody who had nothing to do with Santa once said it was more blessed to give than to receive. Turns out he was right. Dunn has done various experiments that show giving gifts to people or making donations to charity makes people happier than spending money on themselves.

Studies of people's brains using magnetic resonance imaging showed that when people chose to give money to a local food bank this caused activity in the part of their brain typically associated with receiving rewards.

Why should this be? Because humans are the most social animal on the planet, the quality of our social relationships is a strong determinant of our happiness. So almost anything we do to improve our connections with others tends to improve our happiness as well.

Particularly at this time of year, retailers try to entice us with offers to "buy now, pay later". I don't doubt this helps increase sales, but it's pretty much the opposite of how you gain greater satisfaction. Another principle the authors propose is: pay now and consume later.

Consume now, pay later is a bad idea because it eliminates anticipation, and anticipation is a source of "free" happiness, the authors say. Delayed gratification means you get the pleasure of thinking about how good it will be and then you get the pleasure of actually experiencing it. We also get pleasure from looking back on experiences, but we get more from anticipating them.

A third principle is: beware of comparison shopping. The trouble with comparison shopping is it focuses your attention on those attributes of the items that are easily compared, not necessarily the attributes most important to how much satisfaction you'll get from the item once you've got it home and are using it.

This may be particularly true of internet shopping, which is likely to increase the emphasis on the attribute that's most easily compared: price. That's fine - especially when you're comparing identical items. But price is only one consideration. More important ones are whether you really want the thing in the first place, and how much use you're likely to make of it.

The next principle seems odd: follow the herd instead of your head. Research suggests the best way to predict how much we'll enjoy an experience is to see how much someone else enjoyed it. That's because we're so bad at predicting our utility. It's probably also because, being such intensely social animals, we usually feel comfortable doing what everyone else is doing (even if we don't like admitting it).

Next: buy many small pleasures instead of a few big ones. Present-buying parents, please note. The reason the pleasure from acquiring new things wears off so soon is that we so quickly get used to them. Psychologists say we "adapt" to them. So a key tactic in seeking to increase the pleasure we get from things is to find ways of slowing our rate of adaptation. One way to do it is to buy a lot of little things and get satisfaction out of each of them rather than buy a few big hits.

And they say economists use jargon. See if you can translate this: "Across many different domains, happiness is more strongly associated with the frequency than the intensity of people's positive affective experiences." (Positive affect means good feelings.)

In a study of Belgians, those who had a strong capacity to savour the mundane joys of daily life were happier than those who didn't.

I've left for last a principle I've written about before: buy experiences instead of things. We adapt to the ownership of things more quickly than to experiences. We anticipate and remember experiences more than things.

Our experiences are more centrally connected to our identities. And experiences are more likely to bring us into connection with other people.

Turns out this is the retailers' problem. We're not spending less overall, we're just spending less of our income on the goods retailers sell and more on the services they don't. Overseas holidays, for instance. But not for me, this time. Come Boxing Day I'm off up the coast for a few weeks.

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Economy follows wherever our moods take us

To anyone but the economists and financiers, getting to the bottom of what the problem is in Europe is hellishly complicated. The more you read the more confused you get. But you can boil it down to the combination of the availability of credit and what Keynes called ''animal spirits''.

To anyone but the economists and financiers, getting to the bottom of what the problem is in Europe is hellishly complicated. The more you read the more confused you get. But you can boil it down to the combination of the availability of credit and what Keynes called ''animal spirits''.

Animal spirits refer to the tendency of the human animal to go through alternating waves of excessive optimism and excessive pessimism. Because we're a highly social animal, we tend to all be optimistic or pessimistic together. Animal spirits are contagious.

In principle, the availability of credit is a wonderful thing, allowing families to buy a home long before they could pay cash for it and businesses to expand beyond their owners' savings.

Taken separately, the existence of credit and animal spirits isn't a big problem. Taken in combination, however, they can be lethal. Animal spirits - also known as ''confidence'' and ''expectations'' - are the main factor causing the economy to speed up and slow down, speed up and slow down again.

Add the availability of credit - which, once availed of, becomes debt - and the amplitude of the ups and downs is greatly increased to produce the business cycle of boom and bust.

The potentially toxic combination of credit and confidence can be a problem for households, businesses, banks or governments. The risk is they borrow too much while everyone's confident the present up-and-up will last forever, then get into trouble when the mood switches and everyone fears the end is nigh.

In Europe's case the main problem is with excessive borrowing by governments. As Ric Battellino, retiring deputy governor of the Reserve Bank, explained this week, government debt in the euro area has been growing faster than gross domestic product for the past 40 years.

The 17 countries' combined net public debt at the start of the global financial crisis equalled about 45 per cent of GDP. Since then it's jumped a third to 60 per cent. If those net figures don't impress you (most of those you see are gross, taking no account of the countries' financial assets), note that these euro-wide averages include Greece with a net debt of about 130 per cent of GDP and Italy with about 100 per cent.

The trouble with debt, of course, is it has to be ''serviced''. You have to pay the interest as it falls due and sometimes also repay part of the principle. Businesses and governments tend not to repay their borrowings but just roll them over (renew them)when they come to the end of their term.

You pay interest out of current income. This is rarely much of a problem while everyone's optimistic and your income keeps growing. But when the mood swings to pessimism and the economy turns down - or when the economy turns down and the mood swings to pessimism; it's often hard to be sure which causes which - it can get a lot harder to keep up your interest payments when your income isn't growing as fast or is falling.

The trouble with interest payments, of course, is they're not optional. Many households and firms have to cut back their other spending to make sure they can make their interest payments. When too many of them have to do that, the economy takes another lurch down, taking confidence with it.

Governments, on the other hand, tend merely to run bigger budget deficits. But when you're borrowing just to meet your interest payments, your debt and your interest payments grow rapidly.

And you find you've got another problem. The very people who lent to you so happily during the optimistic phase now turn on you. They say you're a hopeless money-manager, they worry about whether they'll get their money back, they'll only lend you more money at a much higher interest rate and may even press you to repay some principal.

Whereas during the optimistic phase they probably didn't charge you an interest rate high enough to adequately reflect their risk that you wouldn't be able to repay them, in the pessimistic phase - when you're at your most vulnerable - they probably charge you more than needed to cover that risk.

It's all terribly illogical, unfair and, worse, counterproductive. The people who shouldn't have lent you so much blame you, not themselves. They go from being too optimistic, to too pessimistic; too easy to too tough. And by doing so they threaten not only your survival, but their own.

Great system, eh? It's one of the great weaknesses of the generally highly beneficial capitalist system. It occurs because the humans who inhabit the system are emotional, herd animals, contrary to economists' happy assumptions that we're all rational and markets never get it wrong. It occurs when, as until recently, economists, regulators and politicians start believing their own bulldust.

All this helps explain why the governments of the euro area, having borrowed far more than they should have over many years, are now in so much trouble. Some, of course, have borrowed a lot more than others. These are the ones in the most trouble. But since they're all yoked together in the euro, they're all in trouble together.

Once the worst case - Greece - focused their attention, the financial markets began turning one by one on the other bad cases, as markets do. Trouble is contagious. Even the strong countries - Germany and France - are sus because their strength may not be sufficient to prop up all the others.

In the modern world, countries aren't allowed to go bankrupt. They always get bailed out, usually by the International Monetary Fund. In the case of the euro area, much of the bailing out will probably be done by the European Central Bank.

But salvation for sinners always comes with hefty punishment attached, to make sure they learn their lesson. Punishment comes in the form of ''austerity'' - big cuts in government spending and increases in taxes - which initially make things worse rather than better.

At present we're going through a drawn-out period of uncertainty while all the politicians involved argue about taking their medicine. I'm confident they'll eventually get their act together but, even if they do, Europe is in for an unpleasant decade.

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