It’s the culture, stupid

Bill Clinton of course said, It’s the economy, stupid. But this week I heard a fantastic reminder that culture trumps everything. My nephew, who works in Nairobi, came to dinner this week & told a story about when he was developing an app to teach personal finance. His script said: There are two things you can do with your money. You can spend it or you can save it.

The boss took him aside and said, Actually, you know there are three things you can do with your money. You can spend it, you can save it, or you can share it.

Our chastened nephew re-wrote his script.

Which is a good opportunity to big up a terrific book about poor people and their money, Portfolios of the Poor: How the World’s Poor Live on $2 a Day. I love this book because it is based on asking poor people about how they use money, and what services they would like. Above all, the answer is secure savings.


Reading on the train

I’m off in a while to Bath to speak at the Literary Festival about GDP: A Brief But Affectionate History – both delighted and mildly surprised at the continuing interest in the subject. To read on the train to and fro, I’m dithering between The Rise and Fall of Neoliberal Capitalism by David Kotz and Pinkoes and Traitors, Jean Seaton’s history of the BBC over the years 1974-1987.


The former looks like an economic version of the political history of the creation of the “free market” economics described so well in Daniel Stedman-Jones’s excellent book Masters of the Universe. At a couple of gatherings of people who are ‘masters of the universe’ recently, it’s clear to me they think the writing is on the wall for the model from which they’ve profited so much. What’s odd about today’s political discourse is that politicians won’t acknowledge (in public) that a big structural change is under way – hence, I guess, the general despair about politics as usual and appeal of populists.


The Jean Seaton book covers my formative years as a teen and young adult. I loved Joe Moran’s cultural history of British TV, Armchair Nation, not least for the reminders of the shared culture that shaped me. At the time I was completely unaware of BBC corporate issues, as most people are most of the time. At the end of April I get to the end of my nine year stint as a BBC Trustee, so am in reflective mode and might go for this book first. (After the end of April, I can reverse the opinion-ectomy anyone linked with the BBC has to undergo because there is always some moron who thinks one’s personal views reflect organisational “bias”….)

Indians, Turks and Homo Economicus

There are still a few of my holiday reads I’ve not yet posted about. One was Amit Chaudhuri’s Calcutta: Two Years in the City, the author’s reflections on moving back to a city he had known well as a child, his conversations with people he met in the streets and in other ways, on Bengali culture (virtually unknown to me save for a couple of Satyajit Ray films and what bits I’ve picked up from reading Amartya Sen, for example in The Argumentative Indian). There is little about the economy in it, although plenty of observation. Chaudhuri writes:

“Will someone in the social sciences write a dissertation on how the rise of individualism in Bengal (in contrast to the West) destroyed rather than energised entrepreneurship, at least on home ground; how, in India, caste and community drive capital and the free market?”

I presume somebody has but don’t know – maybe a reader can give some pointers?

I read, too, Orhan Pamuk’s early novel Silent House – out in a new English paperback, although it was his 2nd novel, written in 1983. I’m a huge fan of his work. This one is set at a time 30 years ago of political and social tension between modern, affluent, urban young people and their poor, rural, unsuccessful counterparts – so well worth reading now. Like Snow, it achieves the great imaginative accomplishment of helping the reader completely understand how some people come to hold such different, and unappealing, views.

I thought both books were great – good reads and able to give the reader a real sense of another world, where people think and behave differently. A reminder of the importance of culture to social science, and an antidote to the (sometimes useful) assumption of homo economicus.

Classics for economists

I’ve been brooding about the depressing popularity of Jane Austen, so have decided to offer my own list of classics for economists and others who’re not part of the sentimental frocks-and-romance brigade. Here’s my Top 10 list (actually it’s 14+), in no special order. As ever, other suggestions welcome.

Nostromo (or virtually any other of his novels), Joseph Conrad: the heart of colonialism

Germinal, Emile Zola: the fuel of the Industrial Revolution – coal and human life

North and South or Mary Barton, Mrs Gaskell: the social effects of industrialisation with a special eye on women. Mary Barton is set in my home city, Manchester.

The Master and Margarita, Mikhail Bulgakov: the murderous insanity of Soviet dictatorship – Professor Woland, Game Theorist? I’ve only just read this, having seen the truly, madly, deeply brilliant Theatre de Complicite staging earlier this year.

The Charterhouse of Palma, Stendhal: pre-unification Italy and European politics

The Leopard, Giuseppe de Lampedusa: The Risorgimento, and modernity.

The Leopard: Revised and with new material (Vintage Classics)

The Whirlpool, George Gissing: in fact anything by Gissing – as he summed it up, “Not enough money,” in Britain’s newly industrialising cities

Middlemarch, George Eliot (or again, pretty much anything by her): astute political and psychological analysis of 19th century social change. Bonnets and frocks without the saccharine.

Roxana, Daniel Defoe: the economic status of women, by one of the unsung feminist heroes, who was also a famous economic journalist in his day. (Tim Harford, where is your first novel?)

Roxana: The Fortunate Mistress (Oxford World’s Classics)

We, Yevgeny Zamyatin: collectivism, conformity – the dark side of the early 20th century. Another recent discovery, courtesy of Nick Reynolds.

We (Penguin Twentieth Century Classics)

Les Miserables, Victor Hugo: need I say anything? I even loved the recent musical movie version

Les Miserables (Classics)

My Antonia and O Pioneers, Willa Cather: the harsh life of the American frontier, and the strength of women

O Pioneers!

The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald: the Roaring 20s in a glamorous nutshell. I haven’t yet seen the new Baz Luhrmann movie version.

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressel: not the greatest literature but a novel that still speaks to working people struggling for money.

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists (Wordsworth Classics)

Embarrassment of Riches

The Financial Times this weekend had a wonderful article by Simon Schama about the re-opening of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. He writes: “In an age of interchangeable international art fairs, all flogging indistinguishable contemporary art, there is something deeply stirring about a great art institution being unafraid to reassert the distinctiveness of its national culture and history, and to make it a cause for popular rejoicing rather than uncool embarrassment.”

The article sent me back to Schama’s 1987 book The Embarrassment of Riches: An Interpretation of Dutch Culture in the Golden Age.

It’s a brilliant account of the feedbacks between cultural innovation and confidence and economic strength, although Schama doesn’t express it in those terms. Still, the country had by the 17th century a troubled and war-torn recent history, nor is it without geographical disadvantages (small and potentially very wet). Its military and economic success calls for explanation.

The revamped Rijksmuseum sounds fantastic – can’t wait to visit. Here’s what the website says about Amsterdam’s age of prosperity.