Author Archives: Oren Litwin

Homeschooling, Credentials, and Community Colleges

07 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by in Economics, Education, Homeschooling, Politics

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Ever since the beginning of the homeschooling movement, homeschoolers have had a dilemma: how to get official recognition of the educational achievements of homeschooled children. Such official recognition is necessary, among other reasons, because employers need ways to discriminate between good and bad hires, and for a long time now a college diploma has been an easy signal of employee quality. (Even if the informational value of college degrees is declining in recent years… but that’s a different discussion.) Colleges, in turn, need some way to tell whether applicants are good students or not. What this means is that after having escaped the rigid quantification of traditional schools, homeschoolers need another way to signal their educational quality.

From the examples I’ve seen, many homeschoolers have addressed this problem by turning to community colleges.

Community colleges generally cater to adult students, as well as traditional students who want to take their general ed requirements more cheaply than a traditional college would cost. This eclectic student base means that entrance requirements end up being fairly permissive: if you show up, you can take a class. This is a boon to homeschoolers, who can rapidly accumulate college credits even without previous formal schooling, enabling them to get the credentials they need to go on to more prestigious colleges if they choose to.

Aside from how interesting this story is in itself, the reason I’m writing about it here is as an example of a larger tendency. Often, institutions that are set up for one reason provide unexpected possibilities, and get used by other people for reasons that no one anticipated. The idea that community colleges would be a key building block in the advancing subversion of the traditional primary education system was on nobody’s mind when they were created, I’m sure.

Similar examples in the same vein are many:  FDIC deposit guarantees, meant to protect bank deposits in the event of a bank failure, are now being used to underwrite market-traded instruments like equity-linked CDs. Agriculture subsidies ostensibly meant to defend the family farmer instead allow massive agri-processors like Monsanto and ADM to capture the market. And of course the 800-pound gorilla, the Internet, originally conceived as a way for military command-and-control to persist in the event of a nuclear strike.

The point is that a new institution creates new possibilities (or can close them off), and the new structured environment will give rise to behaviors that are hard to anticipate. This is one of the reasons why ambitious government interventions often have perverse effects: no one knows what the outcome of a policy change will be, because no one understands the full possibilities of the new system until people have a chance to play around with it. On the positive side, new institutions like the Internet or public capital markets are constantly giving rise to startling new behaviors, as innovations accumulate and interact with each other.

Homeschooling thus far hasn’t managed to compete seriously with traditional college, though it can compellingly compete with K-12 school. Part of that is because no one has yet figured out how to provide a credential that can do the job now done by a college degree. The time may not be far off, however. As college degrees become more expensive and less useful, more and more people are looking for alternatives. In one stark example, Peter Thiel is offering $100,000 fellowships for students not to go to college. Eventually, I suspect, traditional colleges will face as much competition as lower grades already do today. And the enabling factor may well be some institution whose possibilities are imperfectly comprehended today.

Bills of Exchange, Banking, and the Little Things

05 Tuesday Jun 2012

Posted by in Credit, Economics, Finance, History

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Jared Rubin writes about the diverging history of the Christian and Muslim systems of finance back in the Middle Ages. At the time, both Christianity and Islam was enforcing restrictions on lending at interest; Islam also had a ban on financial speculation in general. At the same time, the Islamic world had a financial tool called the bill of exchange, which was meant to facilitate the movement of money between cities. When this tool spread into the Christian world, it became the basis for an explosion of international banking unlike anything seen in the world before then. Why? And why did it not have this effect in the Islamic world?

Bills of exchange worked like this.  Suppose you were a merchant traveling from Baghdad to Basra, to buy trade goods there. However, you don’t want to carry a great deal of money with you; to do so, you would need to hire bodyguards, not to mention the pack animals necessary to carry the precious metal itself (remember, silver and gold are quite heavy). This could be quite expensive; for example, the cost of moving gold bullion from Rome to Naples in this period has been estimated at between 8% and 12% of its value. So you deposit your money with an associate in Baghdad, and receive a bill of exchange for its value. This you must present to your Baghdad associate’s business partner in Basra, who will then give you cash. In this way, you don’t need to physically transport cash. And later, the business partners in Baghdad and Basra can settle their own balance, perhaps with a similar bill of exchange going the opposite direction.

Now, one can think of this transaction in two ways, which are not mutually exclusive. First, the business partners in Baghdad and Basra are clearly providing a service to you, the merchant, who can avoid the danger and expense of transporting your money. But remember too that you are fronting money to the issuer of the bill of exchange. Looked at this way, the bill issuer is borrowing your money.

Islamic law came down firmly on the side of the first understanding. The law required the merchant to pay a fee to the bill issuer—that is, the bill issuer is effectively being paid to borrow money. Furthermore, bills of exchange were dated, and needed to be redeemed by the specified date. If a bill were redeemed late, the merchant would be forced to pay a cumulative penalty. Unscrupulous businessmen sometimes exploited this by refusing to redeem bills of exchange on time, inflicting the penalty on the hapless merchant.

What this meant was that it was extremely risky to deal with bills of exchange from people you didn’t trust. Furthermore, you had little incentive to expand the network of people whose bills you used, since you were being forced to pay for the privilege. So bills of exchange, while useful in certain circumstances, did not stimulate the creation of the sprawling banking networks that grew in Europe later.

To understand the effect of the bill of exchange in Europe, we must understand the difference in conditions.

European trade was made particularly difficult because the different lands each had their own currencies. Furthermore, kings and princes often imposed bans on importing foreign coins into their lands. These bans existed for the good of the ruler alone: when the ruler issues his own currency, he earns seigniorage, the difference between the value of the silver or gold in a coin and its face value. So the more of his coins a ruler can impose on a captive populace, the more money he makes. (Worse, it was a depressingly common practice for rulers in need of cash to debase their currency, reducing its silver content so that each coin was worth less in reality.)

So to trade across lands, a European merchant needed a way to convert currencies—without paying the massive fees that local princes usually demanded. The bill of exchange answered the need. A merchant would deposit money with a banker in Florence, let’s say, and receive a bill of exchange payable in Lyons. The difference was that the bill of exchange was for a different currency than was deposited.

This was prohibited in Islamic lands, where currency swaps of this kind were viewed as speculation. But speculation was not banned in Christianity. So merchants were able to evade capital controls by creative use of debt contracts. Even better, merchants could take advantage of the predictable shifts of currency rates so that they would be repaid in more valuable money than they had lent out, effectively earning “stealth” interest and evading the Christian prohibition on usury.

Thus, Christian merchants and bankers had a huge incentive to expand their ties with other cities, since every additional city offered more opportunities to issue bills of exchange and therefore to lend money profitably. This is how the fabled Medici banking network was built up, for example: by establishing subsidiaries in cities across Europe and transacting bills of exchange between them, at considerable profit.

The upshot was that the creative use of bills of exchange supercharged international trade in Europe (while stunting intra-national trade, since there was no profit to be made in exchanging currencies), where its effects in Islamic lands had been more modest. And in Europe it led to the creation of the first international banking empires, where it did nothing of the sort in Islamic lands. All because of a few seemingly minor details: the Muslim prohibition of speculating in currencies, and Islamic law allowing the bill issuer to charge the lender instead of the other way around.

What lessons can we take away from this? First of all, the little things can have big effects. Second, there’s no way to predict the systemic outcome of a given tool, once human ingenuity gets turned loose to play. Third, the history of finance is pretty cool.

On Revolutions in (Some) Fantasy Fiction

03 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by in Better Fantasy, History, Politics, Revolution, State Formation, War, Writing

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(This post has been retroactively made part of Politics for Worldbuilders, an occasional series.)

Traditionally, fantasy has lent itself to stories of heroic uprisings or revolutions, as the Evil Overlord is swept out of power by the brave protagonists and their loyal army of oppressed commoners. That can be a good story, and sometimes the stories are indeed quite good. It feeds directly into some of our cultural loves: rooting for the underdog, the reestablishment of justice and defeat of evil, and so on.

But what makes this literature trying for a student of comparative politics is how infrequently revolutions are handled with any degree of realism. Not that I demand absolute realism in all books touching on politics—far from it. Often we simplify the mechanics of a story to distill its essence. Still, what annoys me is that people end up telling the same bloody story over and over and over again. And this is so, I think, because the mental model most fantasy authors have of revolutions is so impoverished.

From what I’ve read, most fantasy authors have two archetypes for how a revolution goes off: Robin Hood (as refracted through Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe), or the French Revolution and the various other Parisian dustups. Egregiously, I haven’t read any fantasy modeled after the American Revolution,* and only a single work of science fiction (Heinlein’s The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, a fun read). And most published fantasy writers live in the United States, for Heaven’s sake! And of course, the American Revolution is by no means the only other model you could look to.

The example that spawned this post is Steven Brust’s novel Teckla. (This is not, I hasten to add, because I have anything against Brust in particular, but only because it’s the book I happened to read.) In the book, an oppressed, illiterate underclass is being organized by a group of revolutionaries with the goal of blocking commerce into the capital city, in order to force reforms. To do so, the revolutionaries first endeavor to teach everyone how to read, so that they could then publish propaganda in newspapers.

This was the first point where I was tempted to throw the book across the room. In a real illiterate society, no one would have had the daft idea to publish a mass-market newspaper in the first place. It’s a bit like writing and selling manuals on how to use an iPod in the 1960s. Worse, written material would not be the most effective way to organize untutored masses anyway. Far more effective would have been using actual people to spread the message and organize more revolutionaries where they went, as was done by revolutionaries from Spartacus to Mao.

It got worse. The favored tactic of the revolutionaries was to build Paris-style barricades across the main road into the capital city. All well and good, except that a major mechanic of Brust’s entire series is that the ruling class knows how to teleport with magic. Barricades, or any static defense not augmented with its own magic, would be worse than useless.

So why did Brust rely on such tired tropes, even when they went counter to the very logic of his fantasy world? I suspect that the only model he had for how revolutions work was revolutionary France. And because he had no other mental model to work with, Brust did not have the building blocks that would have fit his story better.

And this is my point. When you study real historical revolutions with an eye toward fiction writing, you quickly find the potential for all sorts of stories that have rarely been told in Western fantasy. More realistic treatment of revolutions can be used to explore themes of divided loyalty, or how governments structure their environment to better exert their power, or how revolutionaries end up doing the same thing, or—and this is particularly fascinating—how civilians will often exploit the conflict between government and rebel, by extorting aid from both sides, or by denouncing resented neighbors as traitors to the cause (so that they will be executed and you can take their stuff).

At any rate, new stories, with new possibilities. This doesn’t mean that the old classics need to be chucked out; Robin Hood will always be a good story. But a creative author can take the old building blocks and mix in a few new things from real life, to make something original. A good place to start (not least because it’s free) is the 1970 classic by Leites and Wolf, Rebellion and Authority (PDF). It’s a study they carried out in the middle of the Vietnam War for the RAND Corporation, and has details from the history of Western counterinsurgency. Much recommended.

Oh, and if there is actually good fantasy or sci-fi out there that handles rebellions well, please let me know in the comments. I’d like to read it.

_______

* Which was not technically a revolution in the political-science sense, since the American social structure and forms of government remained more or less intact, and no one tried to extend the revolution to Great Britain. Really, you could best describe the colonial uprising as a war of secession from Britain.

Random Fiction Excerpt #2

02 Saturday Jun 2012

Posted by in Military, NaNoWriMo, Politics, Writing

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In honor of Camp NaNoWriMo, here’s the beginning of another of my short stories:

“Well, Mr. Keegan,” Colonel Joe Ramirez said, leaning across his ornate desk intently. “Have you made your decision?”

For answer, Keegan smiled, took out his checkbook, and wrote out a check of $300,000 to the 512th Los Angeles Regiment, LLC. Ramirez grinned in return, took the check, and took out a small cherry insignia box from the cabinet behind hin. The box was empty, except for a pair of captain’s bars. Ramirez slid the box toward Keegan. “Welcome to the regiment, Captain Keegan. We’ll have your stock shares transferred to you by Tuesday.”

“One percent of the regiment’s outstanding equity, you said, sir?” Keegan spoke with a thick Cockney accent. As he spoke, he pinned his new rank insignia to the collars of his blank olive-drab uniform.

“Indeed, Captain.” Ramirez chuckled. “We want to make sure that our officers can share in the unit’s success.”

Making New Communities Out of Ideas, and National Novel Writing Month

01 Friday Jun 2012

Posted by in NaNoWriMo, Writing

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Today is June 1, which means that it is also the start of the first month of Camp Nanowrimo, which is the “off-season” version of the better-known National Novel Writing Month. I’ve done NaNo for several years now, ever since I left undegrad. And while I don’t intend for this blog to be a “NaNo blog” exactly, I do think NaNo is a brilliant example of the kind of thing I do want to talk about here.

In NaNo, participants aim to write 50,000 words of fiction in a single month—averaging 1,667 words per day. A daunting task to the new writer, to be sure! Fortunately, the ethos of the NaNo community is that the quality of your writing is totally not important here. You must strangle your inner editor, gleefully embrace repetitive prose, invent absurd situations for your characters to fall into, and if all else fails have a crack squad of ninjas run into the room and attack your characters. Anything at all, as long as you get your word count out.

NaNo has been valuable to me as a writer, by helping me build a consistent writing habit (along with a conceptually related site, 750Words.com). It also gives me valuable writing practice which I certainly was not making myself do on my own.

And that is the point I’d like to discuss here. NaNo represents an institution—a framework or structure that helps people commit to certain goals. By building an internet community, and setting fun attainable milestones for people to focus on, the proprietors of the site inspired hundreds of thousands of people to do far more than they would have done themselves. In a very short time, relatively speaking, NaNoWriMo has changed people in profound ways.

It certainly took a lot of work to set up, but notice what it did not take. NaNo is not mandatory, does not use coercion or punishments for missing your goals, and does no advertising. It was simply a fun idea that took on a life of its own, and people bought in. And the people are the main thing that kept it going. Even those of us who don’t post on the forums still benefit from them, and not least from the sense that there are other people doing the same thing we are, that this goal we have set for ourselves is greater than ourselves, that it is worthy.

Sometimes, all you need is a great idea, the willingness to do the work needed, and a little luck to be able to change the world.

What’s the Point of English Aristocrats, You Ask?

01 Friday Jun 2012

Posted by in Economics, History, Politics, State Formation

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I was reading an article the other day by Douglas Allen (abstract here)* attempting to explain the bizarre institution of the English aristocracy, between about 1600 and 1900. I say bizarre because to be an aristocrat at that time was to accept on yourself a large list of restrictions that seem utterly mad to the modern ear.

Readers of Jane Austen or other Victoriana will tend to have a fuzzy image of the nobility. They clearly had a lot of money, but it wasn’t clear how. They had a lot of land, but a nobleman’s land holdings were as frequently a source of expense as they were a profit center. They had large estates away from the cities; why? Our wealthy class today typically likes to cluster around cities, not to build manor houses out in the middle of nowhere. What made the English different?

Aristocrats were expected to take large tracts of their land out of production and turn them into public walks. They were also expected to build massive homes which were open to visiting aristocrats at all times, and these homes were not merely away from the cities but even away from the local village. Why?

We see that noblemen were expected to go to the right schools. Less obvious was that these schools were remarkable in deliberately avoiding “practical” learning. Nobility were taught Latin, Greek, literature, and a whole host of topics which were utterly useless at making money. Furthermore, if a would-be aristocrat had made enough money to buy land and aspire to respectability, he was expected to immediately stop practicing his profession. For an aristocrat to engage in business was considered terribly shameful.

Allen’s paper goes on to list several other practices such as dueling or the encumbrance of land, all of them seeming to keep the noble class isolated from the larger society and totally unable to support itself commercially. Allen then proposes that all of this was by design. English nobles, he argues, deliberately made themselves hostages to a particular code of honor and class behavior, in order to transform themselves into the perfect servants of the king.

This takes some explanation. We are used to a world in which things can be measured and monitored. We buy rolls of toilet paper in the store secure in the expectation that they are all the same size and weight. We have soldiers in the battlefield equipped with cameras and radios so that their every move can be tracked. In short, it is very easy to monitor someone’s performance on the job, simply by monitoring the products of the work. The epitome of this is the bureaucracy, where everything is regimented and predictable.

But before the Industrial Revolution, it was hard or impossible to monitor anything. Bureaucracies did not exist. When you sent a ship across the world with trade goods, or when you sent an army of soldiers to the Continent, you had no control over what it did, and no way to be sure that your subordinates would actually work for your interests. In short, the pre-modern world was beset with vicious principal-agent problems.

In such a world, the most valuable resource is trust. You need to know that your subordinates are reliable. But how can you ensure such reliability? Economists will tell you to create a relationship framework in which your agent finds it far more valuable to stay in your good graces, than to betray your trust and profit in the short term. This can be done in a few ways. When possible, you can harshly punish offenders. Additionally, you can use repeated interactions to offer the lucrative carrot of future rewards to those who perform well now.

Allen argues that the nobility was a classic example of such a system. The important thing to know was that nobles made nearly all of their money from salaries, by serving as royal officials—which could earn them ten times as much as the most successful businessman, at the time. They served at the king’s pleasure, and could be dismissed for any reason. To give the threat of such dismissal teeth, noblemen were expected to dissipate their wealth through lavish social events and opulent dwellings. They were also expected to cut off all ties with the non-aristocratic world; that way, if you disgraced yourself and were shunned by “gentlemanly” society, you would be utterly alone.

The expensive educations in impractical subjects, the large homes away from the rest of society, all of these were “hostage capital” that displayed your willingness to play by the rules, because breaking the rules would be so very painful. Knowing Greek would be useless in commerce; it only had value within aristocratic society, so you needed to be sure to fit in.

The upshot was that the kings of England had access to a class of loyal servants—of uncertain ability at times, true, but whose dedication was nearly unquestioned. And it was this class of nobles that won England and Britain its empire.

What made the system of nobility break down? Indeed, at the end the aristocrats gave up power willingly, by passing laws allowing the common people to vote and hold offices, and by breaking up the aristocratic barriers to selling their ancestral lands. Allen argues that not only did the Industrial Revolution make the old problem of trust less of a problem, but it also made membership in the aristocracy less valuable. Now, instead of aristocrats earning far higher salaries than businessmen, it was the reverse; corporate titans bestrode the world, not the nobility. Given that, all the trouble of keeping up appearances simply wasn’t worth it. Far better to jump the aristocratic ship and become an industrialist.

So what’s the point of spending a thousand words talking about English toffs? First, I think it’s cool. Second, the whole episode illustrates the limitless ability of people to come up with social organizations to solve their problems. Third, it also illustrates how everything is dependent on context. Once the context shifts, old institutions become less relevant.

At the same time, though, the example of the English nobility remains for us to learn from. And who knows? There may come a time when the old problems become new again, and old wine can be poured into new glasses.

*Allen, Douglas. 2009. “A Theory of the Pre-Modern British Aristocracy.” Explorations in Economic History, Vol. 46: 299-313.

Random Fiction Excerpt #1

31 Thursday May 2012

Posted by in Politics, Self-Promotion, Writing

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From the current draft of a short story I’m writing:

“Thank you for seeing me on such notice, Congressman,” said the PAC representative, a tall brunette in a sharp business suit, as she swiped her FEC-registered credit card in the reader that a polite staffer had helpfully provided. “I know your time is valuable.”

[UPDATE May 1, 2013: This excerpt is from an early draft of the short story “The Best Congress Money Can Buy,” which is now published in a collection titled The Best Congress Money Can Buy: Stories of Political Possibility. You can read the first story for free here, and then buy it if you like. Enjoy!]

In Which The World Changes, Just A Bit

30 Wednesday May 2012

Posted by in Manifesto

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A famous expression wrongly attributed to Mohandas Gandhi, beloved of New-Age types and those who wish to make the world better, is: “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”

It is a powerful thought, to be sure. And it carries with it the promise that there is always something you can do to make the world a better place. After all, we all have the power to change ourselves, even if just a little bit, even when all the circumstances of our lives seem to conspire against such change.

At the same time, the concept can be usefully reversed. That is: “Change the environment around you, so that it can call forth the change you wish to see in yourself.”

Much of human nature seems unchanging. People typically follow the path of least resistance. When it is easy to be good, or to help others, or to be effective in our own lives and professions, then we tend to do so. When things get tough, a few moral heroes stand out from the sea of ordinary men and women who change with the circumstances around them.

Some might view this tendency and be depressed, losing hope for the future of humanity. I take a different view. It really is a thing of wonder that we can change our very psyches by changing our surroundings. Going out into the sunshine or listening to a favorite piece of music can brighten any mood, even just a bit. Exercising, or stretching tight muscles likewise. Even the simple act of smiling, no matter what your actual emotional state, will release positive neurotransmitters into the brain. In a significant way, we are what we do—and we are what we surround ourselves with.

In the larger sphere, our commerce and business dealings are tremendously affected by the environment in which they take place. The stock market, for example, could only have existed after hundreds of years of often fitful, often random or unplanned development of institutions building one on another. Driving its gestation were influences as different as the Christian ban on usury and the insatiable appetite of governments for more borrowing. And in turn, the stock market makes possible the most fantastical forms of commercial interaction that the world has ever seen—some of them harmful (as we have seen!), but many of them beneficial in that they allow people who have never even met to cooperate for the sake of their mutual prosperity, in new and exciting ways.

My future writings here will (with God’s help) discuss such varied topics as banking and finance, fiction writing (the act of creating new worlds in thought), self-actualization and exercise, and of course politics, which is my major area of study. My specialty is in Comparative Politics, which is the study of how societies are the same and how they are different. Again and again, my field has thrown up essentialist theories of how this nation is inherently different (lazier, more energetic, more benevolent, more violent) from another nation, only to see such theories crumble to dust as more research has revealed new explanations. Those explanations usually turn on differences in institutions. And that gives me hope for the future. When we create new institutions, new ways for people to interact and cooperate, we create new worlds.

If there is a single theme that I hope to explore in this blog, it is this: we have so much power to make ourselves better and to grow, by making our tools and our surroundings better suited to support that growth. So many powerful and subtle effects can come about through a minor change in our environment—whether that is the music you listen to in the morning, the food you eat, the structure of a business, the minute details of tax law, or the way in which we choose our political authorities. And that means that we each of us have so much power to change the world, by finding little ways to tinker with it.

So yes: be the change you wish to see in the world. But also: make the world you wish to support that change. The two feed into each other.