Jingi Qui, Tan Chen, Alain Cohn, and Alvin Roth ran a cool field experiment asking the question: does it matter if a prominent economist quote tweets your job market paper? Well, it turns out, yes, it does:

I’m not going to call anyone out, but there was definitely some significant pearl clutching about young careers, IRB, and did the job candidates in the control group give permission to not be retweeted by a prominent economist. I do not care about any of that. I’ll go on the record and say that a) I believe those concerns to be silly and b) if you don’t think they are silly, for your own mental health don’t start digging into how medical science is advanced at the stage of human trials.

What I do care about is the results and what they mean. All publicity is good publicity, doubly so when it implies a famous person has vouched for your paper. It’s the vouching that intrigues me because it’s so weak. It’s a retweeting. It should help you get out of a pile and into a slightly smaller pile. In a job market with a 500-1000 applicants for most positions and only 10-20 first interview slots that lead to 4-7 flyouts, the effect should be trivial. Twenty-five percent additional flyouts is not trivial. If anything it’s catastropic.

“Catastropic” is hyperbole, but this is a blog and that is the currency we deal in.

Twenty-five percent more flyouts are, to me, further evidence of the true source of most of the pathologies of academic economics: we’re overcommitted. We don’t have time to do things like reading papers. This is especially problematic for hiring committees tasked with sorted through 500 to 1000 applicants, each of whom has written a job paper. Careful, dear reader, because you might not like how far this logic can take you.

Why do journal reviews feel so capricious and random? Because the referees don’t have time to read anything or they won’t have time to work on their own submissions. Why does the NBER essentially operate as a club whose principal membership mechanism whether you are a student of a current member at a top 10 school? Because what else are they going to do, read 2000 applicant CVs every year? Why does a three-three teaching load feel utterly damning to those trying to start a research career? Because they marginal cost of additional teaching for someone without any research assistance leaves them a simple choice: no sleep or no research. Do I even have to get into the costs of having children early in careers?

So yeah, if I’m on a hiring committee and someone famous retweets your job market paper, I might just skim it there and then on my computer screen (it’s low marginal cost). It’s there in front of me, so I’ll probably more than read the abstract, I’ll skim the tables and figures too. And that’s all it takes. I’ve got a mandate to come up with a list of 10 candidates I think we should consider interviewing. Who am I to disagree with Famous Economist X when a moment’s humility will put me 10% closer to meeting my obligation?

I’m not saying we’re not star-f…..I’m not saying we’re not status seekers, it’s just that the obsession with status in academia is inframarginal in this context. What’s driving these results is stressed-out folks whose own imposter syndrome makes them incredibly vulnerable to any sort of low-cost information i.e. advertising that offers a new and easy way to economize on their time.

That’s it, that’s the post. I don’t have time to come up with a clever ending.

I was watching the most recent episode of Welcome to Wrexam and was horrified to see another athlete with the wisdom to start planning for their future only for their time and money to be guided into a high risk, low payoff investment.

Stop!

If you are a professional athlete, actor, musician- if you are anyone in a career whose dollar rewards are front-loaded within careers that are short and hard to forecast – please, in the name of Shaquille O’Neal and all that is holy, do not take the money that needs to be the foundation of your family’s financial wellbeing and throw it into endeavors that are more likely to melt it down than grow and prosper.

Ok, Mr Know It All Economist, What should I do with myself and my money?

Great question, let’s start with what you shouldn’t do.

1. Don’t invest your money in anything cool. Your peak income earning years are likely behind you. You can’t afford to be paid in cool. Everything balances out in the wash. If something is cool to invest in (art, music, memorabilia, fashion, film, etc) then it pays out that much less monetarily.
2. Don’t invest your time or money in anything that priortizes the economic outcomes of everyone but you. You’re heavily specialized, which means you may have managers, agents, publicists, etc. You’re a gravy train for others and that train is going to slow down one day. Your job is to ensure your future, not theirs.
3. Don’t insist on maintaining the same economic trajectory. Trying to match or beat your peak athletic earnings is going lead you to taking on too much risk. Look for skills and opportunities that accessible that offer a career you can imagine doing for 20 years. Leverage your connections, skills, public awareness, and interests.
4. Try to tame your instincts towards overconfidence. You were in the top 0.01% of the population for your previous athletic endeavor. You are highly unlikely to be at the same level of elite excellence at your next profession. Look for something you are likely to be good at. Good can and may turn into great, but don’t assume it from the start.

Ok, but what does that add up to? What should I actually do?

Fine, here you go.

1. Invest most of your money in S&P 500 index funds.
2. Buy a house in a place you want to live long term. However much house you think you should buy, get 25% less.
3. Look for a job. Don’t overconcern yourself with the salary, focus on skill acquisition. If need by, take an internship or two.
4. If there is a field you want to work in, yes, even a cool one, and someone gives you an opportunity to work and learn, by all means go for it. But if they ask you for money, run away as fast as you can.
5. Take risks with your time and your feelings (it’s been a long time since you were bad at something!), not with your money.

It’s ok to make less money and in less exciting ways. Ninety-nine percent of people can’t be wrong.

I’m going to be in Montana later this summer and I’d like to solicit our readers for travel suggestions. Three days in Helena, two and a half in Bozeman. I will have a car, but Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks are likely going to be too difficult to squeeze in given the brevity. Where should I go? Should food be a consideration beyond basic caloric needs? I know 5 days is shockingly brief for big sky country, but that’s why I’m coming to you!

I just back from the Society of Labor Economics Meetings in Portland. A couple thoughts in no particular order

1. Conferences are about both luxuriating and reinvesting in our geographically dispersed social networks. Everything else is a secondary. Its not just that I like seeing these people who speak our language and share our jokes, I genuinely miss them when it’s been too long.
2. Post sessions are fantastic for applied work. I enjoyed multiple 2 to 4 person discussions with an actively engaged author who had a perfect prop to lean on. Great stuff.
3. If you’re going to give a keynote, don’t try to impress people, try to educate them on something you specialize it. We all miss being students. Give us a crash course to distract us from the hotel catering.
4. Portland, and the Pacific Northwest in general, is just beautiful. Go to the Japanese Gardens next time you are there.

David Neumark has an excellent article reviewing the extensive literature examining the effects of the minimum wage on, well, a little bit of everything. Sometimes we see improved outcomes, sometimes worse outcomes, often not much of anything. I’m not demeaning this literature to which I’ve myself helped make a modest contribution, but there does arise the concern that perhaps the fruit has begun to hang a bit too low. Which is to say that in a world of modern computing, where regressions can be run at approaching zero cost and policy changes are characterized by an at least a minimally sufficient level of exogeneity, there’s nothing stopping anyone from regressing any measurable outcome on the minimum wage. We’re still arguing about the minimum wage, but what exactly is it that we are learning?

I’m going to head this post off at the pass befores it veers into “back in my day economics used to be about the theory” territory. Yes, the ascendance of empirically-driven applied economics has led to theory to taking something of a backseat, at least in terms of the sheer volume of published research, but I don’t think that is what is going on with the minimum wage literature. Rather, I think its a story of supply and demand.

The minimum wage is an almost perfect issue for people to argue over. It’s not life or death, which keeps the temperature below “brick throwing” levels. The status quo always bears the possibility of change, making arguments policy salient. The absence of action is a meaningful option, particularly in a world with non-trivial inflation. It’s a quantifiable policy that affects incomes and employment directly, which means it’s sufficiently concrete for anyone to have an opinion on. Last, but certainly not least, it lends itself to binary opinion-affiliation in that you either think the minimum wage should be higher or you don’t.

From the point of view of researchers, this adds up to a policy for which there will be near endless research demand. To satisfy that demand your research should, preferably, give consumers a new reason to belief the minimum wage should or should not be higher. To do that a researcher need either i) give new and useful evidence as to how and how much the minimum wage affects earnings and employment, or ii) new and useful evidence that the minimum wage makes some other measurable outcome better or worse. When you consider that the cost of consuming new research is both low and constant, it’s fair to consider the demand to be perfectly elastic. Coupled with the increase in the supply of empirical research generated by reduced cost of computing noted earlier, we shouldn’t be surprised by an equilibrium where an ever-growing number of outcomes have been regressed on the minimum wage.

I don’t think this is anything to get worked up over, don’t see any first-order negative externalities. Most complaints about low-cost empirical research usually sound like academics pining for a time with higher barriers to entry, when you had to be “really good” to produce economic research. The assumption that the complainer is themselves, of course, “really good” always seems to remain unstated. Back to my earlier question, though: what are we learning?

If you’re genuinely curious about the minmum wage, read Neumark’s review. It’s characteristically excellent. Rather than recap, let me come out and say what I think I’ve learned from the reading a lot, but certainly not all, of the minimum wage literature. The minimum wage matters, it’s salient to people earnings, but not nearly as much as the volume of research or argument would suggest. The effects observed tend to be moderate, but labor markets are sufficiently local, heterogenous, and complex that the there remains the possibility of observing different results with different (but largely honest) analyses. This goes doubly so for observing any second-order effects beyond wages and employment, such as health, education, or crime. You are more likely to observed improved outcomes when changes are small, deleterious effects when changes are large.

Those are easy, largely riskless conclusions to share, so let me go a bit farther. The fact that we observe anything but trivial outcomes, positive or negative, is a stark reminder of the margins on which so many people are making decisions. Whether it’s earning a dollar more an hour or losing half a shift a week, it is telling that we see more criminal recidivism, more smoking, less teen-pregnancy, more maternal time with children, and a dozen other effects. It just doesn’t take that much to move the needle.

There is a constant cultural bombardment to value income and material goods less. Perhaps the lesson of a thousand and one minimum wage regressions is that many people aren’t experiencing the diminishing returns to income that popular advice would have you believe. For the young, less-educated, recently immigrated, or those burdened with the stigma of a criminal record, the income elasticity of human behavior remains very much intact. Labor policies matter, even if the minimum wage shouldn’t be quite so close to the top of the list.

I saw A24’s newest and most expensive film to date, Civil War. <<Spoilers incoming>>

A brief summary: the audience is dropped into the middle of a new US civil war as being documented by a group of journalists, our viewpoint centered around a veteran war photographer played by Kirsten Dunst and her (nearly) uninterrupted, first-ballot hall of fame 108 minute RBF. (Seriously, her face is perfection in this movie, I’ve never appreciated her more, absolutely no notes.) A traveling party is formed, a road trip through a war taken on, each stop bringing the gang into contact with increasingly grim and grotesteque humanity.

The subject matter and timing of the film naturally lend themselves to interpretation, subtextual analysis, and Straussian readings. Most films tend to be pretty ham-fisted in their less than subtle themes. With regard to Civil War, there are plenty of thoughts about the underlying meanings and metaphors. Here’s mine: there is no subtext, metaphor, or Straussian messages to be unearthed. The director has pushed this concept and it’s being received as milquetoast marketing. I disagree. There are no secret themes and I think that is the absolutely radical agenda that defines and motivates the artistic endeavor. To portray a war without imbuing it with narrative, only tragic, significance. Hear me out.

There’s a million war movies, most of which have arcs and metaphors strewn throughout. The problem with making a moving about a hypothetical civil war in the modern United States is that the audience will spend so much time looking for the heroes, villains, and associated opportunities to feel morally superior that it seems almost impossible to deliver an effective portrayal of what it might actually feel like to wake up to a US civil war, with a genuinely splintered federalist system of governments and military forces. How do you make a movie that doesn’t celebrate a Civil War as an opportunity for anyone, that doesn’t unintentionally, if inevitably, enoble the prospect of such an outcome? How do you tell a story where nothing good happens because you earnestly believe such a war would be empty and horrible, with nothing advanced or achieved save the destruction of institutions and the killing of millions? Well, it seems that Alex Garland thought the best strategy was to strip a war story down to its barest bones and leave you absolutely zero metaphorical scaffolding to graft your identities or theories on to.

I think it worked. A couple points.

There are no heroes in the film. The four journalists in questions are respectively hollowed out, adrenaline addicted, naive, or looking for one last ride. There is zero allusion to nobility or moral obligation. We never learn the name of a single soldier, whether they are accomplishing a mission, pointlessly dying, or perpetrating atrocities. There’s no arch-antagonist. There are bad people, to be sure, and the third-term President that the film opens with has green lit air strikes on American citizens while filling the airwaves with empty propaganda, but he turns out to be nothing more than a standard-issue cowardly politician wholly incapable of anything save false bravado and begging for his life.

There are no political identities in the film. No left or right wing schism. It might seem that the “Western Forces” alliance of California and Texas is either a transparent political cop-out (putting the largest “red” and “blue” states together) or a subtextual allusion to a schism over immigrants (those states having the largest Latin immigrant populations), but I think there is a far simpler explanation: those are the only two states whose coalition could actually oppose a President trying to usurp the executive branch and fully subvert the constitution. Beyond their populations and economies, the raw number of military bases in the two states (especially air bases), are sufficient that a couple 2 star generals could coalesce a rival military body. There’s also a reference to Florida being an i6 ndependent secessionary state. [EDIT 4/23/24] Guess which states have the most military personnel and air force bases? California (184k+ 8 AFB) and Texas (164k + 9 AFB). Florida has the 5th most active duty personnel, but also has 6 AFB. Everyone else is a either a battle ground or a (literal) flyover state.

The film captures, I think brilliantly, the idle chaos of such a scenario. A world simultaneously shutting down and carrying on with life. Of people mostly trying to survive and wait it out. Mostly. There are some who are not sitting it out, putting themselves in contexts where they can play out their dreams to be heroes or monsters, never accomplishing anything but spreading a little extra death around. I kept thinking about the pandemic on the drive home from the theater. Millions of people died but most of our memories at the peak of the lockdown are of feeling trapped and bored. A civil war in a country this big might not feel all that different for months or even years at a time for most of the population.

The thing about the “banality of evil” is that it’s both extremely real and nearly impossible to portray in a film without comedic deadpan or ghoulish overkill. Civil War portrays a United States ripped apart at it’s constitutional seams by midwit politicians incapable of forward inducting from usurping power and committing atrocities to eventually being executed by a nameless soldier who will report their success to a command chain with no understanding or possibly even interest in putting it all back to together. That’s how the story of the United States as we know it could end. Without heroes or villains, moral or philosophic judgements, without even primary or secondary causes. The thing about a country falling apart, there isn’t always a why, just a when and how.

The lesson I took away from Civil War is that a world doesn’t have to end for a reason. It can just end. And when it does, mostly what we’ll do is watch and wait for it to start up again.

The mai tai is a lesson in how a good thing can become a bad thing without the name changing. Followers of politics should take notice. Good rule of thumb: if a mait tai is red it is bad. The simple solution is to always order a Trader Vic’s Mai Tai. If the bartender doesn’t know what that is, just order a Dark and Stormy and live to fight another day.

Trader Vic’s Mai Tai

3/4 ounce fresh lime juice
1/2 ounce orange curaçao
1/4 ounce orgeat
1/4 ounce simple syrup
2 ounces aged rum

If you are looking to abstain from alcohol I suspect you could make a phenomenal limeade by mixing in orgeat and some pineapple juice and then garnishing it with dusted red chili or habanero pepper.

In terms of unexpected introspection, I was careened into by an emotionally wreckless Winnebago :

Would you rather be 20% better at your job or twice as good at a hobby of your choice?

— Adam Ozimek (@ModeledBehavior) April 7, 2024

The answer is obviously job, right? I mean, I’ve dedicated huge swaths of my life to economics. I love economics. Sacrifices have been made, time and emotional toil committed. I would love to be a 20% better economist. That would mean my labor in the profession would be at least 20% more valuable, likely more. The opportunity cost of my time would skyrocket. I would be in more demand as a consultant, would receive more outside offers that would bring me to new heights of salary, likely other parts of the country, other parts of the world even. My work would receive greater attention and scrutiny. I would be fueled by the pressure to keep up with my past self and past contributions. There would be more speculation as to whether I’ve passed my peak, remain worthy of continuing investment. There would be disserations to be written, careers to be made identifying the errors I’ve committed, both subtly important and catastrophically innocent. I’d feel a greater sense of obligation to my, perhaps unearned, talent. To make good on it through service to the world. Sleep, travel, leisure would all feel that much more costly, that much more selfish. Strangers would feel that much more compelled, that much more rewarded, for publicly impugning my abilities and intentions. I would, ironically, probably receive 1000% more public censure as a result of 20% greater capacity. Would my 20% spike in competence come bundled with a thicker skin, independence of thought, and clarity of identity? Would I still be me? What exactly does come out the other side of the teleporter Mr. Scott?

Yeah, so I told the djinn I’d rather be 100% better at golf.

Thailand has a legitimate problem with roving gangs of monkeys that recently achieved significant scale leading to territorial violence in Lopburi :

Biggest news to come out of Thailand since #สุขุมวิท11: The city of Lopburi is experiencing unprecedented violence between two monkey gangs, authorities have been mobilised to quell chaos and are currently attempting to relocate the primates. pic.twitter.com/NUXKlvcPdT

— yammi (@sighyam) March 29, 2024

The sophistication of the monkeys in question is such that gangs have been known to take a train two hours to find rival territory that is sufficiently resource rich and for which they have adequate numbers to the challenge the local monkeys. They also seem to have a rudimentary familiarity with firearms that makes tranquilizing them at any scale challenging.

There appears to be some theory behind mitigation strategies, tranquilizing and apprehending group leaders being number 1. What else might a little basic theory suggestion? Any alternative strategies?

The first question that comes to mind is whether there is a means to tilt the resource calculus towards exurban territories. That seems challenging simply given the calorie density of urban groceries and refuse. It’s probably too difficult to raise the price of resources sufficiently on their own (locked garbage cans, closed door supermarkets), but maybe the offering of monkey feeding sanctuaries outside of city limits that are within sight/smell of train lines? That could be useful means of concentrating then populations in an area that would then enable second-level strategies. And yes, I am already imagining small monkey cities wherein we can study their emergent politics. I’ve already titled my 2029 paper “Rhesus Politik” and before you ask, 1) No you can’t have the title, and 2) yes, you can be a co-author.

What about the violence as it stands within Lopburi? Can we shift the payoffs away from Hawk and towards Dove strategies? Can we increase each monkey’s expected cost of violence or decrease their payoff to exerting dominance? Perhaps an evolutionary tax on weight i.e. taking the largest monkeys out of the gene pool, the equivalent of neutering and spaying? Melee violence has signficant returns to scale, so perhaps we could expect less violence if groups were smaller. Can we change the optimal scale of individual gangs through artificial pheremones simply dousing them with knockoff Drakkar Noir? If Big Science has an genetically modified banana high in the amino acids that lead to introversion, now is a great time to share it. Personal experience suggests that if we start blasting Elliot Smith songs through the streets will monkeys begin to break off under the crushing weight of their own ennui.

I’d suggest fomenting another agricultural revolution amongst monkeys, but the initial reduction in violence over rival turf would eventually evolve into feudal violence between stationary bandits, which I fear would lead to a net increase in violence, at least for the first few thousand years. Instead, I believe we would be better served giving groups of monkeys the necessary institutions for establishing and adjudicating property rights, changing the payoffs such that the exchange of resources were preferable to violent expropriation. We’ve lived this evolutionary history before, we know how it goes. Maybe this time we can skip to the democratic peace and pax economica.

I mentioned this in conversation yesterday and they found it of interest, so here is the prospective usecase for blockchain/crypto that is the main reason I am bullish and things like ethereum:

Artificial Intelligent agents will eventually get to the point where we are comfortable letting them act autonomously on our behalf. For them to maximize their value to us, however, they will need to be able to contract with other AI agents without human middlemen slowing down the process. This means they need a way to form contracts outside of the traditional legal system, particularly since we are unlikely to grant them personhood or power of attorney any time soon. Tokens and the blockchain offer an immutable ledger that will serve as a form of credible contracting for agents absent any legal institutions in real time. I expect they legal human agents will remain necessary for early stage formation and late stage ex post adjudication of disputes, but the micro (nano) contracting facilitated in real time will allow for an allocation (and arbitraging) of personal private capital not previously accessible to any but the largest personal and corporate wealth agglomerations.

There you go. That’s why I own a little bit of ethereum and plan on holding it for a few more decades. Don’t know if it will end up being worth anything, but that’s why I own it. NB: I didn’t google it, so I’m not sure if this is a standard usecase or not.