Interpreting policy talking points from people running for office is difficult for a variety reasons, but it essentially boils down to the fact that voters often do not want the outcomes that would be produced by the policies they will in fact vote for. Candidates, in turn, must find a way to promise policies they will either do their best not to deliver or, if they do deliver them, said policies will be bundled with other policies that will mitigate their effect.

Interpreting the true intended policy bundle being signaled by a candidate is fraught with traps, not least of which our personal biases. If I want to like a candidate, for social or identity reasons, I will have a tendency to interpret their policy proposals as part of a broader, unspoken, bundle that I like. If I don’t want to like a candidate, perhaps because they are a petty, boorish lout whose principle aptitude appears to be grifting at the margins of legality and leveraging the high transaction costs of our legal system, then I will subconsciously interpret each policy proposed as part of a more insidious unspoken bundle.

How should voters and pundits navigate an environment where information is limited and bias is largely unavoidable? I don’t know, but here’s how I try anyway.

1. Assume every candidate has basic competency in appealing to their base.
2. Assume every candidate wants to appeal to the median voter.
3. Do not assume anyone knows who the median voter is.
4. Assume both candidates and their advisors have the same capacity to assess how their respective bases will react to a proposal and how it will actually impact them, but do not assume they know how the median voter will react and be affected.

In essence, candidates will always have a deeper familiarity, with greater repeated interactions, with their voter and donor bases. They know how they will react and how they will actually be impacted. Platforms will be designed around navigating contexts where popularity and expected impact are in conflict. What this means is that, in the aggregate,

1. A candidate stands to do the most damage when advocating for policies that will aid their base at the expense of the median
2. A candidate will create the most uncertainty when the desires of their base are at odds with the consequences for their base.

For example, assume both major parties are advocating for trade restrictions. Let’s call them the Plurality party and the Majority parties. Trade restrictions will hurt the median voter, full stop. The Plurality party, whose indentity constitutes a minority of the total population but the largest share of the population of any subgroup, stands to gain the most through policies that extract from others in a negative sum game. It will be easier to take their candidate’s policies at face value because of uncertainty around the median voters preferences, in part due to voter uncertainty about how policies will affect them.

The Majority party, on the other hand, is more fractured in the subgroups that constitute its more numerous whole. They can be thought of an encompassing group coping with the high costs of intragroup bargaining. Their greater numerical advantage in elections is partly, if not wholly, nullified by difficulty solving collective action problems and their need to solve positive sum games whose benefits are spread too thinly to excite their base. Further, the Majority party is inclusive of the median voter, about which there is greater uncertainty. The Majority party, as such, has greater incentive to rely on a form of subtextual deception. To win elections, they will need to propose the policies that the various elements their base wants while also bundling them with other policy elements that will mitigate their consequences in the aggregate and leave options open downstream as consquences for the median are made manifest. Interpreting proposals of the Majority party demands more Straussian reading, which also means that greater care is needed in monitoring your own bias. Because all complex political economy aside, sometimes parties do in fact just have bad ideas.

Good luck.

My wife and I were watching Guy Ritchie’s “Sherlock Holmes” (2009) last night. There is a chase/fight scene where a large commercial ship being repaired along a dock is detroyed as collateral damage. She asked me “What are the consequences of that ship being destroyed?” I had to admit that I didn’t fully know the state of the insurance market in Victorian England, but suffice it to say a few businesses and/or families were likely ruined. Which led to a conversation about collateral damage outside of the main narrative in movies and insurance. Sorry, that’s just what happens when you marry an economist. Things to consider the next time you’re filtering your prospects.

Which got me thinking: how much does the suspension of our disapproval of the protagonist’s actions (similar to the suspension of disbelief) depend on our undeclared faith in the insurance market of a fictional world? We don’t worry about destroyed livelihoods because we assume everything is simply absorbed as a tail event against which everything is insured. Car through front window? Automotive insurance tail event. Plane crashing onto the Vegas strip? Aeronautical tail event. Godzilla’s tail sweeping through a city? Giant lizard tail tail event.

How about the rise of the antihero? How many heists include a character shouting exposition to a crowd of cowering bank customers that they are there to steal money from the insurance company rather than the customers? The filmmaker needs the audience to suspend disbelief that bank’s have multiple customers inside in the age smart phones and suspend disapproval of the morality of the thieves’ actions as they steal from what they can only hope the audience will deem a souless corporation that can absorb the loss without broader consequence.

There’s two intellectual rabbit holes you can go down when you start thinking about insurance. You can dive in vertically, asking how much of our daily lives, including the consumption of narratives, is dependent on the presumption of insurance. You can also start thinking horizontally: how many dimensions of our lives boil down to creating formal and informal sources of insurance. We acquire formal health, home, pet, and automotive insurance. We also join groups, like churches, synagogues, mosques, and (yes) cults for social insurance. One motive to have children is to insure against the limitations and isolation of old age. Anything and everything we invest in, both individually and as a society, that softens the tail events at the expense of the expected outcome is a form of insurance.

It can go on and on. If anything, it takes care at some point to stop seeing everything as a form of insurance. Why did they feature an actor in the poster and the trailer despite their only appearing for 14 minutes in the film? Why were they paid more than double the lead actors? Oh, right. They’re an insurance policy against a catastrophic opening weekend. If the movie is good, but needs word of mouth to spread for people to starting coming out, you need to survive to a second weekend to start making money. Better to eat a chunk of your expected profits on a big name than risk getting dumped from theaters before the audience can find you.

What’s that you say? No one goes to theater’s anymore? Oh. Well, there’s some risk you can’t insure against.