Think of your favorite restaurant. Now think of what you like about it. Maybe it's the food. Maybe it's the "ambience." If you're a particular cheapskate, it may even be the price. But something that is important for almost any dining experience is that the hosts treat you well. Of course, there are exceptions, but a rude server can be the make-or-break component for a good evening and even a customer's permanent personal opinion of the locale.
This attitude doesn't only apply to restaurants, though. The appeal of good barber shops, bakeries, car shops, insurance salesmen (I could go on) is that they provide a good service coupled with a good attitude. In his book Good to Great, Jim Collins says that successful companies require people who are passionate for their work and believe they are providing a valuable service. This is more true than ever at the point of interaction between seller and buyer.
This analysis, though, clashes sharply with one of the most famous lines in classical economic literature. In Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, Smith says "It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest."
While some have argued that this statement comes a bit out of context, it is nonetheless a building block of our understanding of market economics. People create not as a way to help others, but as a way to get what they want from others. One incisive critique of this viewpoint, however, comes from Alasdair MacIntyre in his book Dependent Rational Animals. He imagines an experience in which we walk into a butcher shop and observe the butcher suffering from a heart attack. He says that our first inclination would not be to move on and find another butcher who is in more of a position to sell us meat, but we would rather feel compelled to find help.
While this is a good point, I would argue that it does not take so dire a situation to find mutual interest in a routine economic exchange. All in all, we are best benefitted when we are sold meat by someone who A) wants to be a butcher and B) we want to support. There is a certain value that we gain from supporting the community butcher instead of buying at Wal-Mart, something that goes beyond the quality of the good. The best economic exchanges are ones in which we not only are happy to get what we want, but ones in which we are also happy to give.
Economics is often presented as a zero-sum game, but the best economic transactions are not ones in which people rationally balance gains and losses, it is the ones where people collapse the benefits bestowed with the benefits accrued. This means that an economic transaction must be viewed as more than just a means to an end, but as an end in itself. Think back to your favorite restaurant. When they are at their best, they aren't serving you food because they see you as an instrument, but they are undergoing the essential Kantian moral obligation by treating you as an end yourself.
This takes us back to Collins. In Good to Great, Collins says that the most successful companies are focused on on quality in particular: excellence. While the classical economist says that profit is about Xs and Os, companies like Apple, Chic-fil-a, and Chipotle continue to defy this logic by putting excellence first and letting the profits follow from that. And they've done pretty well for themselves.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
Two Modest Recommendations for Gun Safety in America
After last week's horrific tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, the discussion around gun violence in America has once again been reinvigorated. While I have shared some thoughts on gun violence in a previous post, I focus this post on a more results-oriented approach as we find ourselves in the wake of yet another national tragedy. While President Obama rightly leaves the door open for a broad-based approach that includes more than traditional gun control and this tragedy again highlights the necessity of better mental health care in America, I will comment here only on the topic of gun safety.
First, a federal assault weapons ban must be re-implemented. The previous ban was put in place in the wake of the 1980s spate of gun violence, but expired in 2004, a year that had seen a decade of declining homocide rates. With the NRA on the rise and Republicans in charge of the Presidency and Congress, renewal did not have a chance. This coupled with the Supreme Court's controversial rewriting of the second amendment in 2008's District of Columbia v. Heller was a huge victory for gun-rights advocates and criminals alike.
The main argument of gun enthusiasts and the NRA for the preservation of assault weapons in private possession is that assault weapons are necessary for self-defense. Their defense of this claim, however, is rather weak. The only advantages an assault weapon provides over a handgun is more ammunition, faster firing, and more range, all advantages that are traded for a dearth of portability and ability to conceal. No, assault weapons are not tools for defense, but are, as their name suggests, designed for assault. The case has been made for restrictions on assault weapons and high-capacity clips and congress should act on that case.
The second proposal I put forth has to do with local control. The constitution was devised at a time when the word "state" meant something more than "province." Each separate state saw themselves as a substantial political entity; the nation-state of "America" had not yet become established. Thus, the 10th Amendment was born: "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people."
While we still live in a federal system in which states have a strong role, we also live in a country where local divisions are even more relevant culturally than state divisions. The Manhattanite likely has more in common with someone who lives in downtown Los Angeles than someone who lives on a farm in upstate New York, and that farmworker in upstate New York likely has more in common with a farmer in rural Wyoming than a Buffalo suburbanite.
While America was born as a country with fairly even population distribution, it has evolved into a country of densely populated metropolitan areas and sparsely populated rural areas, all with their own needs. These divisions, however, are not mirrored in our federal system. In City of Cleveland v. State of Ohio, for example, the Ohio Supreme Court ruled that the City of Cleveland could not restrict gun ownership past the dictates provided by the state.
Rural areas often need softer gun laws to accomodate for hunters (who have an important role of controlling animal populations) to own guns. Urban areas often need stricter gun laws as a way to curb gang-related violence. The current system of state control often leads to a state consolidating its power by picking a loser between the two.
So here is my second recommendation: leave non-assault weapon laws to local governments and regulate the transportation of weapons at higher levels of government. After all, that is the role of the commerce clause. Democracy works best when rights are guaranteed through federal and international means and all else is left to be locally decided upon, through a fair and democratic process. This may mean more power to municipalities to the detriment of state governments, but state governments have a vital regulatory role that cannot be dispensed of. But overall, the role of health, safety, and morals is best dealt with on a more intimate level than the state can provide.
First, a federal assault weapons ban must be re-implemented. The previous ban was put in place in the wake of the 1980s spate of gun violence, but expired in 2004, a year that had seen a decade of declining homocide rates. With the NRA on the rise and Republicans in charge of the Presidency and Congress, renewal did not have a chance. This coupled with the Supreme Court's controversial rewriting of the second amendment in 2008's District of Columbia v. Heller was a huge victory for gun-rights advocates and criminals alike.
The main argument of gun enthusiasts and the NRA for the preservation of assault weapons in private possession is that assault weapons are necessary for self-defense. Their defense of this claim, however, is rather weak. The only advantages an assault weapon provides over a handgun is more ammunition, faster firing, and more range, all advantages that are traded for a dearth of portability and ability to conceal. No, assault weapons are not tools for defense, but are, as their name suggests, designed for assault. The case has been made for restrictions on assault weapons and high-capacity clips and congress should act on that case.
The second proposal I put forth has to do with local control. The constitution was devised at a time when the word "state" meant something more than "province." Each separate state saw themselves as a substantial political entity; the nation-state of "America" had not yet become established. Thus, the 10th Amendment was born: "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people."
While we still live in a federal system in which states have a strong role, we also live in a country where local divisions are even more relevant culturally than state divisions. The Manhattanite likely has more in common with someone who lives in downtown Los Angeles than someone who lives on a farm in upstate New York, and that farmworker in upstate New York likely has more in common with a farmer in rural Wyoming than a Buffalo suburbanite.
While America was born as a country with fairly even population distribution, it has evolved into a country of densely populated metropolitan areas and sparsely populated rural areas, all with their own needs. These divisions, however, are not mirrored in our federal system. In City of Cleveland v. State of Ohio, for example, the Ohio Supreme Court ruled that the City of Cleveland could not restrict gun ownership past the dictates provided by the state.
Rural areas often need softer gun laws to accomodate for hunters (who have an important role of controlling animal populations) to own guns. Urban areas often need stricter gun laws as a way to curb gang-related violence. The current system of state control often leads to a state consolidating its power by picking a loser between the two.
So here is my second recommendation: leave non-assault weapon laws to local governments and regulate the transportation of weapons at higher levels of government. After all, that is the role of the commerce clause. Democracy works best when rights are guaranteed through federal and international means and all else is left to be locally decided upon, through a fair and democratic process. This may mean more power to municipalities to the detriment of state governments, but state governments have a vital regulatory role that cannot be dispensed of. But overall, the role of health, safety, and morals is best dealt with on a more intimate level than the state can provide.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
My Personal Experience in "Poverty"
For today's reflections, I'm going to go in a slightly more personal direction.
A week ago, I made a move from central Ohio, my home of the past twelve years, to Omaha, Nebraska, a city and state I had never laid my eyes on before and which is the home to my assignment for the next year as an Americorps VISTA. Partly from my change in locale but mostly owing to my lack of a social life here, I have had a lot of time to reflect on my new situation and what I am learning here in Omaha.
The main motivation for my interest in the VISTA program and this assignment in particular was an opportunity to deal with the problems of everyday people on the ground level and to gain an experience of empathy that I would not have had the opportunity to have from a week-long service trip or irregular volunteer visits to soup kitchens. VISTA is a federal program that places year-long volunteers in assignments that are geared specifically toward the goal of poverty alleviation. My assignment in particular is working with an organization called the Neighborhood Center, a nonprofit that helps build capacity for neighborhood associations throughout the greater Omaha area. Little did I anticipate that my experience with poverty would be experiential as well as observational.
As Americorps VISTAs, we commit to a year of service, but are paid a living stipend to cover housing, food, transportation, etc. That living stipend is set at the poverty level for the area we are living in. Thus, my stipend is $928/month before taxes. While this is low, I calculated rent costs for my new apartment in Omaha along with transportation (bus passes are provided through the program for free) and food costs and saw that I would be living on more than I did in college or in the time between graduation and the beginning of my tenure as a VISTA. It didn't seem like it would be a problem at all.
While in college, I spent half of my time on Pell Grant, a program that only the bottom 11% of students at Denison qualified for. Despite being in the bottom 11% of students when it came to wealth, I never felt like I didn't fit in or was limited by that status. For all that students make of class inequality, there is something inherently egalitarian about college life, especially at my school. Everyone lived on campus, so transportation was not much of an inequality issue. Even without a car, I did not feel terribly limited compared to those who owned one. We all ate in the same dining halls for three years. Housing was paid for at the start of the year, so rent payments are not an issue. I was able to get along fairly well with people with "rich" families and those whose families were not so well off.
Though I am only a week into my experience here in Omaha, I am already starting to see that "poverty" has a much bigger impact on your life post-graduation. The biggest place that I am seeing an impact is in transportation. While I could always hitch a ride with someone or use my parents' car in high school and I had three roommates with cars in college, I am now living on my own, a mile from the most frequent-running bus stop, during a winter that is just beginning.
What I am also running into is a lack of people to spend time with. While my landlord and the program have introduced me to a number of people who are friendly and willing to help me out when I need it, I still do not have a circle of friends here to have fun with and to depend on when I need help.
This experience is something that was touched on in our VISTA training a week before our assignments began. I recall our group facilitator leading a session on poverty, explaining that poverty was something that was experienced in a number of different ways. While we tend to emphasize income, poverty manifests not only financially, but also mentally, socially, physically, etc.
This message fits well with one that is put forth by Nobel-Prize-winning economist Amartya Sen in his book Development as Freedom. In chapter 4, "Poverty as Capability Deprivation," Sen argues that poverty is often narrowly construed as a lack of income. This definition, however, fails to encapsulate the fact that someone can be impoverished even with financial resources. One example he uses to explain this is that of unemployment. Even if someone is able to be recouped the financial loss caused by unemployment, not being able to sustain one's self through employment shows a certain poverty of dignity that most would not want to subject themselves to. This is evidenced by the uneasiness we have when unemployed and being stuck with the question "well, what do you do?" in social situations. Poverty is not only a lack of financial resources, but is more broadly a lack of capabilities to fulfill basic human needs.
Another takeaway from this message for me, though, is that my poverty will never really reach the level of those who find themselves stuck in a multidimensional cycle of poverty. While I may find myself without a sizable income, without adequate transportation, and without a readily available group of friends, I still have a college education and social resources that come from growing up in a wealthy suburban enclave and attending a top-50 liberal arts college. Thus, I have opportunities and possibilities that most in abject poverty are without.
While I will never be able to fully understand what it feels like to be truly trapped in poverty, I can still do what I can to sympathize and empathize with those around me who are. And at least I'm trying.
A week ago, I made a move from central Ohio, my home of the past twelve years, to Omaha, Nebraska, a city and state I had never laid my eyes on before and which is the home to my assignment for the next year as an Americorps VISTA. Partly from my change in locale but mostly owing to my lack of a social life here, I have had a lot of time to reflect on my new situation and what I am learning here in Omaha.
The main motivation for my interest in the VISTA program and this assignment in particular was an opportunity to deal with the problems of everyday people on the ground level and to gain an experience of empathy that I would not have had the opportunity to have from a week-long service trip or irregular volunteer visits to soup kitchens. VISTA is a federal program that places year-long volunteers in assignments that are geared specifically toward the goal of poverty alleviation. My assignment in particular is working with an organization called the Neighborhood Center, a nonprofit that helps build capacity for neighborhood associations throughout the greater Omaha area. Little did I anticipate that my experience with poverty would be experiential as well as observational.
As Americorps VISTAs, we commit to a year of service, but are paid a living stipend to cover housing, food, transportation, etc. That living stipend is set at the poverty level for the area we are living in. Thus, my stipend is $928/month before taxes. While this is low, I calculated rent costs for my new apartment in Omaha along with transportation (bus passes are provided through the program for free) and food costs and saw that I would be living on more than I did in college or in the time between graduation and the beginning of my tenure as a VISTA. It didn't seem like it would be a problem at all.
While in college, I spent half of my time on Pell Grant, a program that only the bottom 11% of students at Denison qualified for. Despite being in the bottom 11% of students when it came to wealth, I never felt like I didn't fit in or was limited by that status. For all that students make of class inequality, there is something inherently egalitarian about college life, especially at my school. Everyone lived on campus, so transportation was not much of an inequality issue. Even without a car, I did not feel terribly limited compared to those who owned one. We all ate in the same dining halls for three years. Housing was paid for at the start of the year, so rent payments are not an issue. I was able to get along fairly well with people with "rich" families and those whose families were not so well off.
Though I am only a week into my experience here in Omaha, I am already starting to see that "poverty" has a much bigger impact on your life post-graduation. The biggest place that I am seeing an impact is in transportation. While I could always hitch a ride with someone or use my parents' car in high school and I had three roommates with cars in college, I am now living on my own, a mile from the most frequent-running bus stop, during a winter that is just beginning.
What I am also running into is a lack of people to spend time with. While my landlord and the program have introduced me to a number of people who are friendly and willing to help me out when I need it, I still do not have a circle of friends here to have fun with and to depend on when I need help.
This experience is something that was touched on in our VISTA training a week before our assignments began. I recall our group facilitator leading a session on poverty, explaining that poverty was something that was experienced in a number of different ways. While we tend to emphasize income, poverty manifests not only financially, but also mentally, socially, physically, etc.
This message fits well with one that is put forth by Nobel-Prize-winning economist Amartya Sen in his book Development as Freedom. In chapter 4, "Poverty as Capability Deprivation," Sen argues that poverty is often narrowly construed as a lack of income. This definition, however, fails to encapsulate the fact that someone can be impoverished even with financial resources. One example he uses to explain this is that of unemployment. Even if someone is able to be recouped the financial loss caused by unemployment, not being able to sustain one's self through employment shows a certain poverty of dignity that most would not want to subject themselves to. This is evidenced by the uneasiness we have when unemployed and being stuck with the question "well, what do you do?" in social situations. Poverty is not only a lack of financial resources, but is more broadly a lack of capabilities to fulfill basic human needs.
Another takeaway from this message for me, though, is that my poverty will never really reach the level of those who find themselves stuck in a multidimensional cycle of poverty. While I may find myself without a sizable income, without adequate transportation, and without a readily available group of friends, I still have a college education and social resources that come from growing up in a wealthy suburban enclave and attending a top-50 liberal arts college. Thus, I have opportunities and possibilities that most in abject poverty are without.
While I will never be able to fully understand what it feels like to be truly trapped in poverty, I can still do what I can to sympathize and empathize with those around me who are. And at least I'm trying.
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