You Can’t Always Get What You Want

If you listen to the business news even occasionally, you’re familiar with this phrase or some variant of it: “the market doesn’t like uncertainty.”  Entering a few versions of the phrase on Google alone yields over 1.5 million results.  The phrase is as ubiquitous as the sports cliché “we’ve got to play one game at a time.”  But the more you think about it, the more the phrase splits into two parts, one trivial, the other irritating.

            The markets don’t like uncertainty.  Who does?  Does the employee hearing rumors of layoffs or plant closures like uncertainty?  Or the patient waiting for test results, the athletes wondering if they’ll be drafted, the couple trying to have a baby, or the older person concerned about the value of their IRA?  The list could go on interminably, but the message is simple: no human being, and probably no sentient creature, likes uncertainty.  Like the auto in The Phantom Tollbooth, the statement “goes without saying,” even though nearly every financial analysts says it.

            I suppose there are exceptions. Many thrill-seekers do appear to like uncertainty, whether they’re trying a new Xtreme sports trick or gambling everything they have in Las Vegas or on their new software idea.  John Keats even praised the “the Man of Quality” for possessing “Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.” 

            But these special cases aside, uncertainty is, perhaps only second to mortality, the most universal and universally stressful parts of the human condition.

            That said, why do the economic pundits sing this refrain daily?  There are, I think, three reasons:

            First, it is a fact, and often a fairly successful explanatory fact.  Given the burdensome task of explaining why the stock market dipped, or why businesses are not hiring, the interviewee reaches for an incontrovertible fact, however bland that fact may be.  More specific attributions, such as concern over some country’s debt, some large corporation’s poor earnings, or simple profit-taking, are more debatable.  No one is going to counter Jim Kramer with the reply, “oh yes they do like uncertainty.”

            A more important reason, or maybe assumption is a better word, is that the speakers have elevated business’s or the markets’ uncertainty to a privileged position.  You and I may have to live with uncertainty, but the business world certainly shouldn’t have to.  After all, a major goal of entrepreneurs, big investors, venture capitalists, and the rest of those whose life is in the markets, is to achieve such a level of financial security that they can personally minimize uncertainty.  Having millions spread among a variety of assets, living in a gated community, being able to hire security guards, afford the best medical care, and possessing all the accoutrements of great wealth enable the a select few to feel secure from almost everything except death, and maybe even, delusionally, that too. 

            So the first unquestioned assumption is that the markets, business, or corporations, despite the Supreme Court’s contention that they are people, should really be free of the uncertainty that plagues the flesh and blood person. And remember, the corporation in all its forms is founded on the notion of persistence beyond the lives of it members.  Too bad they’re not self-aware, so they don’t know they’ve achieved immortality.

            The second, and more insidious assumption is revealed in one of the most common contexts of the phrase.  Very often the uncertainty the pundit is lamenting is an uncertainty owing to government deliberation or action.  Will there be a shutdown?  Will taxes go up?  Will the Fed continue the stimulus?  The hidden critique is that bad old government is upsetting good old business, which is a lamentable state of affairs.  The odd paradox is that, at least in recent times, the party of business creates most of the uncertainty that it deplores, then blames the government it is hampering.  Of course, conservatives can have it both ways: if government can’t get anything done, even if they are responsible for the inaction, then they can point to the fact that goverment can’t get anything done to prove their position.  But that’s matter for another time.

            For now, let’s remember that uncertainty is far more harmful to the average person than to Tom Wolfe’s “Masters of the Universe,” and let’s remind the experts of that whenever we can.

The Law Sir, is a Ass

            Though the law is not always “a ass” (after all, Dickens’ Mr. Bumble was only talking about a specific law), lawmakers all too often belong inside a donkey costume rather than a legislature.

            Two current examples, one from various state legislatures and a lesser one being bruited in Washington, are perfect examples.  In the past few months, nearly twenty percent of the states have proposed laws allowing businesses owners to refuse service or employment on the basis of their religious beliefs.  The legislature in Arizona has actually passed such a law.  The bills vary widely.  Some are honest about their purpose, stating that business owners can discriminate on the basis of a person’s sexual orientation, but others simply allow discrimination against anyone at all based on religious belief.

            The mind truly boggles.  There are some cases where sexual orientation is apparent – when a wedding photographer, caterer, or reception hall is asked to work with a gay or lesbian couple.  Leaving aside such distinctive cases, which still raise huge questions about, for example, whether a business, especially one that is formally incorporated, can have religious beliefs, two obvious problems arise:

            First, how would an individual’s sexual orientation, or any other violation of the business owner’s beliefs, become apparent?  “Hi, I’m gay.  Would you please fix my flat tire?”  “Do you have a table for two lesbians tonight?”  One assumes that those with virulent anti-gay prejudice are hardly gifted with excellent gaydar.  Would we have new signs saying “No gays need apply” or “Gays not wanted here?” Imagine the thought process:  “Oh dear, I’m gay and I have a toothache.  Better not go to that dentist though.”  “Whoops, I know we’re almost out of gas, but that station doesn’t allow a Subaru with two women in it to fill up.”

            Second, how can the rules be limited to gays?  Every religion has innumerable bans, some of which are common, others rare.  Just take Catholics: no gays, divorced people, users of birth control. Or Quakers: no soldiers.  Could Jews ban someone who recently ate a pork sausage, Hindus an eater of beef, etc. etc?

(I know some of these apply only to members of the religion, but no doubt some would claim even proximity to treyf is unbearable.)

            More important are the universals.  Take the Ten Commandments and their parallels.  What faith doesn’t list adultery, stealing, lying, dishonoring parents, murder, and the like among sins?  Jesus, after all, spoke against divorce, but never against homosexuality.  Maybe we should rewrite his admonition: “Let he who is without sin among you buy my wares; all others keep out.”  (Of course, the business owner should by rights have nothing to do with himself unless he has never violated any of his church’s tenets.)

            So not only are these bills small-minded, bigoted, and most likely unconstitutional, they are about as unenforceable as any ever dreamed up by ass-headed politicians.

            Not quite so illogical, but still disappointing, is the recent proposal that Olympic athletes should not have to pay taxes on the money they receive for winning.  At first glance not a big deal:  the prizes top out at $25,000, and for most medal winners, taxes on their endorsements and appearances will amount to much more.

            It’s only when you realize that all other prizes, including MacArthur grants and Nobel prizes, are taxed – thanks to a tax hike in 1986 during the Reagan administration – that you start to get annoyed.  Prior to 1986, it was felt that prizes given for achievement, and for which no services were rendered, should not be taxed.  Unlike Olympic athletes, no one explicitly works on a scientific or artistic project, or strives for peace, because a Nobel or MacArthur lies at the end of the trail.  In fact, Olympic athletes are more like NFL, NBA, or MBL players, or indeed like contestants on Jeopardy or The Price is Right than they are like the writers, doctors, economists, physicists, or peace activists, who are awarded the aforementioned or similar prizes.

            So, unless they donated their prizes, which some did, Al Gore, President Obama, and Jimmy Carter were taxed – and the Dalai Lama, Nelson Mandela, and Aug San Suu Kyi would have been taxed, had they been Americans.  But the first woman to do a backward 1080 on the half-pipe, or the couple who included the best twizzlers in their dance routine, should get a pass?  

            The message couldn’t be clearer: curing cancer, stopping a war, making a breakthrough discovery, are all well and good, but what really boosts American prestige is finishing a tenth of a second ahead of someone on a hill.  What’s next?  The Indy 500 / Wimbledon / World Cup / NASCAR exemption? 

            Of course, guys like Scott Hamilton could have used the extra cash to hire a cab (if he can get one) to take him to a restaurant in Phoenix that would serve him.

           

Happy Festivus

I’ve been away for some time, but now that it’s Christmas / Solstice / Kwanzaa / Festivus, I thought I’d put out a list of grievances.  Have you noticed that Festivus is catching on, from Rand Paul to civic displays?  We are an aggrieved people, and never more so than now (well, perhaps during the Civil War).

            Anyway, here are some things I’ve noticed that have me annoyed and puzzled.

1.     Why is the state of Utah appealing the December 20 ruling allowing gay marriage to the Supreme Court, while still “reviewing” the decision a week earlier of another judge striking down the state’s polygamy ban?  And why does the gay marriage decision draw 67 million hits on Google to 12 million for the polygamy ruling?  This is one time I have to give some conservatives credit for consistency – but only that -- in opposing both rulings. 

2.     Years ago we used to give gifts.  Now we “gift.”  Of course we don’t yet “gift gifts.”  But even reputable periodicals are beginning to use words like “giftees.”  So next we will have gifters gifting gifts to giftees instead of givers giving gifts to recipients.  Yuck.

3.     TV ads are setting new standards for the twin ills of conspicuous consumption and inability to defer gratification.  On any given evening you can watch people dropping their phones in wine glasses, dousing their computers with coffee, and tossing their car keys in a Salvation Army bucket, all so they can get the newer, “better” item, because “two years is too long to wait for an upgrade.” 

4.     Recent polls show two interesting phenomena: 74% of Americans believe that NSA spying intrudes on their privacy rights.  But at the same time, a poll shows that Americans’ trust in each other has reached an all-time low.  Almost 2/3 of us don’t trust each other.  Now one could argue that the two coincide: we don’t trust each other, and we especially don’t trust the government.  But it’s also possible to raise a question: if 2/3 of Americans don’t trust each other, shouldn’t they want government surveillance of all those untrustworthy people to increase?  Or is it a case of “Don’t spy on me, but watch all those other people very carefully”?

5.     I frequently hear sportscasters in basketball and football maintaining that referees shouldn’t make borderline foul calls at the end of a close contest.  The commentator always says, “Let them play the game.” Evidently “playing the game” includes cheating, but only when cheating is very likely to make a difference in the outcome.  A player can be called for pass interference, holding, charging, or a foul on the wrist during all but the last two minutes or so of a game, but down the stretch anything short of outright mugging should be allowed.  Should this also apply to the 72^nd hole of a golf tournament, the foot-fault serve at the end of a fifth set, or the low blow in the final round of a championship boxing match? 

I'll be back soon, maybe even with something cheerful.

They're Playing Our Song

 

 Sorry I've been away so long. Like most people in Boston, I’ve been following the Red Sox closely, and am just beginning to consider what life will be like now that the parade is over.  (The first five artic les in the on-line Boston Globe were about the  Sox, so I guess we won’t exactly be going cold turkey.)

            Among the few thing that got me annoyed during the run were, in fact, two Globe articles.  The first fell into the classic literary form sportswriter faireweatherness.  Because the Red Sox lost two of the first three games, and made some obvious blunders, this reported now saw them as not playing hard enough and announced his disgust with a team he had probably been enthusiastic about for over 170 games.  I just hope he’s not taking credit now for lighting a fire under them for the next three consecutive wins.

            The worse offense, though, was another writer who announced it was now time to retire the tradition of singing Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” at the seventh inning stretch. A Boston Herald writer said the same thing, but only as a temporary suggestion  for the playoffs, to throw the other team off, kind of like replacing your left-handed knuckleball starter with a fastball righty in the eighth inning.  To which many have replied that you never change anything in the middle of a lucky streak – why not have the Red Sox shave their beards to the next team wouldn’t recognize tem?

            But the Globe guy wants the song gone for good.  Why: 1. It’s been around for over 10 years; 2. It’s not a good song, and 3.  There’s a line about touching that creeps him out because Diamond was writing an ode to the young Caroline Kennedy.

            If obsolescence is a reason for dropping an anthem, why do we have two Civil War songs at the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness (more on that later) and a national anthem that dates from one of our less significant wars?

            Regarding age and quality, The Star-Spangled banner may be the most unsingable national anthem in the world, and its butchery by hundreds of incompetent and egotistical performers is grounds enough for its demise. 

            And if bad lyrics are the problem, let’s look again at “My Old Kentucky Home,” which is a lament by a “darky” – the word is used several times – who has apparently been sold away from his plantation and may be leaving his family behind to die in a strange land.

            Even worse, “Maryland My Maryland” is a pro-Confederacy song that urged Maryland to join  Virginia and “spurn the Northern scum” led by the “despot,” “vandal” and “tyrant” Lincoln, and even includes the words “Sic semper is the proud refrain” – as used by John Wilkes Booth.

            No, sports fans and patriots, there’s no accounting for taste in mob lyrics.  How else can we explain the British soccer tradition  of club songs, ranging from Liverpool’s valiant “You’ll Never Walk Alone” to  West Ham’s bizarre “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles”?  The songs have catchy tunes – okay, not the SSB – and a few lyrics that also work – the Fenway chant of “So Good, So good” that breaks up the song – and then they take on a life, as Caroline did, and does still more after Diamond came to the diamond to lead Sweet Caroline on the first game after the Marathon bombing.  Woe to him who tries to apply Mr. Spock’s logic to the most emotional of art forms.

            I wonder if they still sing The Star-Spangled Banner on the deck of the Enterprise?

The Idea of War and the War of Ideas (or Their Absence)

            I’ve just finished reading an article called “What Happened to the Anti-War Movement?”  http://www.nationofchange.org/what-happened-anti-war-movement-1378477752 The author, David Sirota, was lamenting the lack of any serious demonstrations against intervention in Syria, and suggesting that the problem was partisanship: Democrats are against Republican wars, Republicans against Democratic wars. “An anti-war movement,” Sirota said, “is supposed to be a check on such reflexive bloodlust. It is supposed to be a voice of reason interrupting the partisan tribalism.”

            Aside from the simple fact that the current Syria debate seems to be making unlikely bedfellows at both ends of the mattress (John Boehner and Nancy Pelosi siding with Obama; John McCain wanting him to be even tougher?), Sirota’s view, and that of most current voices, suggest that not partisanship, but a decline in the ability to think about complex issues, is an element of what is happening.

            The first question is, how can anyone seriously use the phrase “the Anti-War Movement”?  It never occurred to me that the anti-war movement was an enduring and consistent entity, like say, the antislavery movement.  If the anti-war movement seeks to eliminate all war everywhere, then it’s properly called pacifism, and it’s always been around, but I don’t think that’s what we’re talking about here.

            If “the anti-war movement” is the grandchild of the anti-Vietnam War movement and the anti-Iraq (II) movement (with some distant relatives like the anti-invasion-of-Grenada movement), then it’s almost entirely an American phenomenon, and it crosses party lines: LBJ and Nixon were equally its targets, while 43 was excoriated and 41 pretty much given a pass for Desert Storm, suggesting a variety of nuances.

            If the anti-war movement is local, it may be have any of three roots: anti-jingoism rooted in skepticism about American motives; isolationism, based on a historical “no foreign entanglements” philosophy or a simple lack of concern for whatever happens elsewhere, or not-quite-100% pacifism.

            To be truly anti-war (and yet not a pacifist) would be to condemn many wars, even to the point of being willing to fight some wars to avoid worse consequences.  In my own life I have been strongly anti-war during Vietnam and Iraq II, but not during Desert Storm, NATO in the former Yugoslavia, or Libya.  Looking further back, I have no idea how I would have felt about Korea (though the thought of a Kim-Kim-Kim dynasty ruling over the whole peninsula is not very appealing), pretty sure I would have been pro-World War II (but against the bombing of civilians, and for the bombing of the rail lines leading to the death camps), and against the Spanish-American, Mexican, and First World Wars.

            Should we fight against a leader who has violated the Geneva Conventions, whether he has acted against his own people or another country?  Morally, I lean toward yes.  (If we had actually taken on Saddam and “chemical Ali” when they were slaughtering Kurds, we would have had much better grounds than when we actually went to war against Iraq.)  Can we do so and still keep our hands clean, or at least cleaner than the hands we are slapping?  Not sure, but I’d like to hope so. 

            But the idea that War is a single entity (as, say, land mines, nuclear weapons, or probably genocide are) is absurd.  There are limited military actions, there are wars between formal armies with little or no “collateral damage,” there are wars that have initial moral justification on at least one side, and wars that have none.  There are wars that begin for defensible reasons, and move beyond any reason into disasters even worse than the one for which they were originally fought.

            As a young man I was horrified at the tanks rolling into Budapest, and later at the crushing of the Velvet Revolution, and much later at Tiananmen Square, but I accepted that there was no way to stop these evils without bringing on much worse suffering to many more people.  I was also shocked at the horrors of Rwanda and Darfur, and thought there was at least a possibility that forceful intervention might diminish the sum total of evil.  And in Syria, where we have strong reason to believe even the minimal standards of war conduct set out in the Geneva Convention have been callously violated, it seems more than a little likely that intervention could do more good than harm.

            So I’m not pro-war or anti-war, not this to            me and not in general, and I suspect millions of us feel the same way.  But simplistic thinking – are you for or against – seems to be driving out deeper reasoning, as cheap coinage drives out good.  Partisanship is one contributor to that sort of thinking, but many other causes in our society, from poor education to sound-bite news also contribute. 

            It may be true that standing in the middle of the road too long can get you run over, but it’s the only place where you can look both ways and consider where you should go next.

             

           

The Price of Everything

            I generally enjoy reading Seth Godin’s blog.  Though a marketing maven, he has a lot to say about quality, treating people right, and other ways to do well and still not do evil.  But his latest post struck me as way off the mark.  Here are some of its key points: (Since I’m annoyed with him, I’m not going to tell you more about him, but he’s easy to find.)

Getting smart about the time tax. If you want to go to Shakespeare in the Park in New York, you need to really want to go.  That's because it's free. Well, mostly free. They use a time-honored tradition to be sure that the tickets are allocated to people who truly want them: they tax the interested by having them wait on line, for hours sometimes.

It seems egalitarian, but it's actually regressive, because it doesn't take into account the fact that different people value their time differently. People with time to spare are far more likely to be rewarded.

We don't need to make people wait in line for anything if we don't want to. Why not have the most eager theater goers trade the three hours they'd spend in line in exchange for tutoring some worthwhile kid instead? Instead of wasting all that time, we could see tens of thousands of people trading the lost time for a ticket and a chance to do something useful. (Money is just one way to adjudicate the time tax problem, but there are plenty of other resources people can trade to get to the head of the line).

This logic of scarcity can be applied to countless situations. First-come, first-served is non-digital, unfair and expensive. And yet we still use it all the time, in just about everyone situation where there is scarcity. 

As a young man, I waited in those lines many times.  (Once I gave up and went to an expensive movie with my date instead – a movie that wound up earning me a $2500 scholarship shortly afterward, but that’s a different story.)  The wait was usually worth it, especially when spent in the company of friends, and we got plenty of vitamin D for our time as well. 

Aside from my own reminiscences, and my gratitude that I had a better chance at a ticket as a high school student than did a broker who couldn’t leave the stock exchange until after four, I still see an enormous amount wrong with Godin’s view.  

First of all, anyone who thinks that we actually use first-come in scarce situations has never watched a sports event, gotten an invitation to a fundraiser with a major performer or public figure, or tried to buy an IPO of a hot stock. Do you think that Spike Lee waits in line for Knicks tickets, that the plasterer on Martha’s Vineyard who didn’t get to see Carol King sing on behalf of the Democratic Party at Martha’s Vineyard for $1500 just didn’t reach Paypal in time, or that your broker slotted you in line ahead of the California pension plan because you put in for Facebook stock minutes ahead of them? In fact there are relatively few times in life when the ability to take time, and the patience to do so, will get you the scarce item.  (And many of those apply to relative equals: students, say, lining up to get into their first course choice.)

Then Godin dazzles us with jargon: waiting in line is “regressive, because it doesn’t take into account the fact that different people value their time differently.”  Waiting on line is a “tax.”  And first-come first served is “non-digital.”  I thought regressive meant the poor paid relatively more than the rich, as in sales taxes, or absolutely more, as in the combination of Social Security and payroll tax as against capital gains.  Waiting would then be progressive: as a high school student without a job, I paid zero to wait on line, while the attorney paid hundreds of dollars.  (That was back in the day, of course.  Today he could be on his phone at his full billable rate, but that would kill Godin’s whole argument.)  Nor, despite the old saw, is time money.  (Remember Jack Benny and the hold-up man?  “Your money or your life.”  “I’m thinking.”)  All of us have a finite amount of time, while some of us have practically unlimited money.  I’m not sure what Godin means by non-digital, except maybe that the Internet has replaced what the Germans call sitzfleisch (ability to stick it out) with internet capacity.  But as far as I know, people are still analog creatures, and will be until the Singularity.

Godin is clearly of the mindset that anything can be “monetized.”  Even his ludicrous effort to show “money is just one way” to deal with the problem proves that.  The hedge fund manager who can’t afford to give up three hours on line would want to, or be qualified to do social service instead?  How much money would have to be spent to find him the “worthwhile kid” to tutor?  Would the kid’s worth be predicated on his future earning power?

No, Mr. Godin, first-come first served isn’t unfair, or it is only in the sense that life is unfair.  Some of us have better looks than others, some are taller, some thinner, some smarter, some better-connected.  Every one of those variations can make unfair differences in life’s opportunities.  Having money is one of the easiest ways to tip the scales in your favor in almost every area of life.  I say hooray for those few places where patience counts for more than payment, and free time is actually worth something to its owner.

On Shaky Ground

            The Trayvon Martin case, for all its ambiguities and its echoes of past white-on-black violence, actually raises a more fundamental question: what kind of society is created by stand your ground laws?  A society both dangerous and strikingly illogical.  Here’s why.

Imagine for a moment the facts are reversed.  George Zimmerman lies dead on the pavement, his skull fractured.  Beside him is a discharged gun.  Trayvon Martin explains to the police that this man started following him, cornered him, and drew a gun.  He overpowered the man, knocked him to the ground, Zimmerman’s gun went off, and he beat Zimmerman’s head on the pavement until Zimmerman lost consciousness and the gun dropped from his hand.  All the rest of the evidence remains the same: Zimmerman’s call to the police, Martin’s to his girlfriend, the distant eye and ear witnesses.

            Setting aside the question of racism, isn’t Martin’s defense exactly the same as Zimmerman’s?  He stood his ground after retreating, he felt his life was in danger, and he reacted with deadly force.  If anything his defense is stronger: he’s not the one who initiated the encounter.  So the trial result, if any, would likely be the same as well: self defense.

            The older self-defense laws, focusing on the ancient English doctrine that a person’s home is his castle, relied on the specifics of the circumstances.  If you are in my house, and I feel threatened, I am the one entitled to defend myself, even with deadly force.  Only a preponderance of evidence – that I was under no actual threat, that I had a motive for assaulting my visitor – can put me at risk.

            But with the stand your ground interpretation, no one has prior standing.  Any two people may feel threatened by the other, either one can respond, and either can kill or maim with impunity. 

            Imagine again a different kind of situation.  Two men get in an argument in a bar.  Each threatens the other.  They “take it outside.”  One is killed.  The other pleads stand your ground.  It seems to be a winner take all situation, and in fact once the fight starts, it’s in the best interest of either party to be sure the other doesn’t survive, so that his (or her) claim of self-defense is less likely to be challenged. As the Old West noted, “Dead men tell no tales.”

            Is this merely hypothetical?  Studies at state universities in Texas and Georgia, both stand your ground states, found that homicide deaths increased sharply in the 23 stand your ground states in the years just after their passage, while they decreased in the other 27 states in the parallel years.  The numbers, 500 to 700 more deaths per year in the stand your ground state, would be shocking if they weren’t buried in the over 30,000 guns deaths in the U.S. annually. 

            The state senator who sponsored Florida's version, says such legislation allows people to do "what they are supposed to do, as a good citizen. They're stopping a violent act.”  Unfortunately, they’re stopping a violent act, which may never have happened, by committing a violent act,.  And as the Trayvon Martin case shows, the good guy is simply the one left alive.