Why does everyone work full-time?

Jun 30 JDN 2460492

Over 70% of US workers work “full-time”, that is, at least 40 hours a week. The average number of hours worked per week is 33.8, and the average number of overtime hours is only 3.6. So basically, about 2/3 of workers work almost exactly 40 hours per week.

We’re accustomed to this situation, so it may not seem strange to you. But stop and think for a moment: What are the odds that across every industry, exactly 40 hours per week is the most efficient arrangement?

Indeed, there is mounting evidence that in many industries, 40 hours is too much, and something like 5 or even 30 would actually be more efficient. Yet we continue to work 40-hour weeks.

This looks like a corner solution: Rather than choosing an optimal amount, we’re all up against some kind of constraint.


What’s the constraint? Well, the government requires (for most workers) that anything above 40 hours per week must be paid as overtime, that is, at a higher wage rate. So it looks like we would all be working more than 40 hours per week, but we hit the upper limit due to these regulations.

Does this mean we would be better off without the regulations? Clearly not. As I just pointed out, the evidence is mounting that 40 hours is too much, not too little. But why, then, would we all be trying to work so many hours?

I believe this is yet another example of hyper-competition, where competition drives us to an inefficient outcome.

Employers value employees who work a lot of hours. Indeed, I contend that they do so far more than makes any rational sense; they seem to care more about how many hours you work than about the actual quality or quantity of your output. Maybe this is because hours worked is easier to measure, or because it seems like a fairer estimate of your effort; but for whatever reason, employers really seem to reward employees who work a lot of hours, regardless of almost everything else.

In the absence of a limit on hours worked, then, employers are going to heap rewards on whoever works the most hours, and so people will be pressured to work more and more hours. Then we would all work ourselves to death, and it’s not even clear that this would be good for GDP.

Indeed, this seems to be what happened, before the 40-hour work week became the standard. In the 1800s, the average American worked over 60 hours per week. It wasn’t until the 1940s that 40-hour weeks became the norm.

But speaking of norms, that also seems to be a big factor here. The truth is, overtime isn’t really that expensive, and employers could be smarter about rewarding good work rather than more hours. But once a norm establishes itself in a society, it can be very hard to change. And right now, the norm is that 40 hours is a “normal” “standard” “full” work week—any more is above and beyond, and any less is inferior.

This is a problem, because a lot of people can’t work 40-hour weeks. Our standard for what makes someone “disabled” isn’t that you can’t work at all; it’s that you can’t work as much as society expects. I wonder how many people are currently living on disability who could have been working part-time, but there just weren’t enough part-time jobs available. The employment rate among people with a disability is only 41%, compared to 77% of the general population.

And it’s not that we need to work this much. Our productivity is now staggeringly high: We produce more than five times as much wealth per hour of work than we did as recently as the 1940s. So in theory, we should be able to live just as well while working one-fifth as much… but that’s clearly not what happened.

Keynes accurately predicted our high level of productivity; but he wrongly predicted that we would work less, when instead we just kept right on working almost as hard as before.

Indeed, it doesn’t even seem like we live five times as well while working just as much. Many things are better now—healthcare, entertainment, and of course electronics—but somehow, we really don’t feel like we are living better lives than our ancestors.

The Economic Policy Institute offers an explanation for this phenomenon: Our pay hasn’t kept up with our productivity.


Up until about 1980, productivity and pay rose in lockstep. But then they started to diverge, and they never again converged. Productivity continued to soar, while real wages only barely increased. The result is that since then, productivity has grown by 64%, and hourly pay has only grown 15%.

This is definitely part of the problem, but I think there’s more to it as well. Housing and healthcare have become so utterly unaffordable in this country that it really doesn’t matter that our cars are nice and our phones are dirt cheap. We are theoretically wealthier now, but most of that extra wealth goes into simply staying healthy and having a home. Our consumption has been necessitized.

If we can solve these problems, maybe people won’t feel a need to work so many hours. Or, maybe competition will continue to pressure them to work those hours… but at least we’ll actually feel richer when we do it.

Reflections on fatherhood

Jun 24 JDN 2460485

I am writing this on Father’s Day, which has become something of a morose occasion for me—or at least a bittersweet one. I had always thought that I would become a father while my own father were still around, that my children would have a full set of grandparents. But that isn’t how my life has turned out.

Humans are unusual, among mammals, in having fathers. Yes, biologically, there is always a male involved. But most male mammals really don’t do much of the parenting; they leave that task more or less entirely to the females. So while every mammal has a mother, most really don’t have a father.

We’re also unusual in just how much parenting we need to survive. All babies are vulnerable, but human babies are exceptionally so. Most mammals are born at least able to walk. Even other altricial mammals are not as underdeveloped at birth as we are. In many ways, it seems that we come out of the womb before we’re really done, in order to spare our mothers an impossible birth.

And it is most likely due to this state of exceptional need that we became creatures of exceptional caring. Fatherhood is one of the clearest examples of this: Our males devote enormous effort to the care and support of their offspring, comparable to the efforts that our females devote (though, even in modern societies, not equal).

It’s ironic that many people don’t think of humans as a uniquely caring species. Some even seem to imagine that we are uniquely violent and cruel. But violence and cruelty is everywhere in nature; it’s the lack of it that needs explained. Even bonobos are not as kind and cooperative as previously imagined, and eusocial species don’t generally cooperate outside their hives; humans may in fact be the most cooperative animal.

What about war? Is that not uniquely human, and thus proof of our inherent violence? Wars are indeed unusual in nature (though not nonexistent: ants and apes are both prone to them), but the part that’s unusual is not the violence—it’s the coordination. Almost all animals are violent to greater or lesser degree. But it’s the rare ones who are cooperative enough to be violent en masse. And most human societies are at peace with most of their neighbors most of the time.

In fact I think it is the fact that we are so caring that makes us so aware of our own cruelty. A truly cruel species would be far more violent, but also wouldn’t care about how violent it was. It wouldn’t feel guilt or shame about being so violent. The reason we feel so ashamed of our own violence is that we are capable of imagining peace.

And part of why we are able to imagine a more caring world is that (most of us) are born into one, in the hands of our mothers and fathers. When we become adults, we find ourselves longing for the peace and security we felt in childhood. And while caring is largely seen as a mother’s job, security is very much seen as a father’s. We feel so helpless and exposed when we grow up, because we were so protected and safe as children.

My father certainly taught me a great deal about caring—caring so much, perhaps too much. I suppose I don’t actually know how much of it he actually taught me, versus how much was encoded in genes I got from him; but I do know that I grew up to be just like him in so many ways, both good and bad—so kind, so loyal, so loving, but also so wounded, so aggrieved, so hopeless. My father was more caring than anyone else I have ever known. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and now so do I. My father died without achieving most of his lifelong dreams. One of my greatest fears is that I will do the same.

Being in a same-sex marriage has also radically changed my relationship with fatherhood. It’s no longer something that can happen to me by accident, or something that would more or less end up happening on its own if we simply stopped fighting it. It is now something I must actively choose, a commitment I must make, a task I must willfully devote myself toward. And so far, it has never seemed like the right time to take that leap of faith. Another great fear of mine is that it never will.

Life is a succession of tomorrows that turn all too quickly into yesterdays, of could-bes that fade into could-have-beens, of shoulds that shrivel into should-haves. The possibilities are vast, but not limitless; more and more limits get imposed as time goes on, until at last death imposes the most final limit of all.

I don’t want my life to pass me by while I’m waiting for something better that never comes. But I clearly can’t be satisfied with where I am now, and I don’t want to give up on all my dreams. How do I know what I should fight for, and what I should give up on?

I wish I could ask my father for advice.

No, the system is not working as designed

You say you’ve got a real solution…

Well, you know,

We’d all love to see the plan.

“Revolution”, the Beatles


Jun 16 JDN 2460478


There are several different versions of the meme, but they all follow the same basic format: Rejecting the statement “the system is broken and must be fixed”, they endorse the statement “the system is working exactly as intended and must be destroyed”.


This view is not just utterly wrong; it’s also incredibly dangerous.

First of all, it should be apparent to anyone who has ever worked in any large, complex organization—a corporation, a university, even a large nonprofit org—that no human system works exactly as intended. Some obviously function better than others, and most function reasonably well most of the time (probably because those that don’t fail and disappear, so there is a sort of natural selection process at work); but even with apparently simple goals and extensive resources, no complex organization will ever be able to coordinate its actions perfectly toward those goals.

But when we’re talking about “the system”, well, first of all:

What exactly is “the system”?

Is it government? Society as a whole? The whole culture, or some subculture? Is it local, national, or international? Are we talking about democracy, or maybe capitalism? The world isn’t just one system; it’s a complex network of interacting systems. So to be quite honest with you, I don’t even know what people are complaining about when they complain about “the system”. All I know is that there is some large institution that they don’t like.

Let’s suppose we can pin that down—say we’re talking about capitalism, for instance, or the US government. Then, there is still the obvious fact that any real-world implementation of a system is going to have failures. Particularly when millions of people are involved, no system is ever going to coordinate exactly toward achieving its goals as efficiently as possible. At best it’s going to coordinate reasonably well and achieve its goals most of the time.

But okay, let’s try to be as charitable as possible here.

What are people trying to say when they say this?

I think that fundamentally this is meant as an expression of Conflict Theory over Mistake Theory: The problems with the world aren’t due to well-intentioned people making honest mistakes, they are due to people being evil. The response isn’t to try to correct their mistakes; it’s to fight them (kill them?), because they are evil.

Well, it is certainly true that evil people exist. There are mass murderers and tyrants, rapists and serial killers. And though they may be less extreme, it is genuinely true that billionaires are disproportionately likely to be psychopaths and that those who aren’t typically share a lot of psychopathic traits.

But does this really look like the sort of system that was designed to optimize payoffs for a handful of psychopaths? Really? You can’t imagine any way that the world could be more optimized for that goal?

How about, say… feudalism?

Not that long ago, historically—less than a millennium—the world was literally ruled by those same sorts of uber-rich psychopaths, and they wielded absolute power over their subjects. In medieval times, your king could confiscate your wealth whenever he chose, or even have you executed on a whim. That system genuinely looks like it’s optimized for the power of a handful of evil people.

Democracy, on the other hand, actually looks like it’s trying to be better. Maybe sometimes it isn’t better—or at least isn’t enough better. But why would they even bother letting us vote, if they were building a system to optimize their own power over us? Why would we have these free speech protections—that allow you to post those memes without going to prison?

In fact, there are places today where near-absolute power really is concentrated in a handful of psychopaths, where authoritarian dictators still act very much like kings of yore. In North Korea or Russia or China, there really is a system in place that’s very well optimized to maximize the power of a few individuals over everyone else.

But in the United States, we don’t have that. Not yet, anyway. Our democracy is flawed and imperilled, but so far, it stands. It needs our constant vigilance to defend it, but so far, it stands.

This is precisely why these ideas are so dangerous.

If you tell people that the system is already as bad as it’s ever going to get, that the only hope now is to burn it all down and build something new, then those people aren’t going to stand up and defend what we still have. They aren’t going to fight to keep authoritarians out of office, because they don’t believe that their votes or donations or protests actually do anything to control who ends up in office.

In other words, they are acting exactly as the authoritarians want them to.

Short of your actual support, the best gift you can give your enemy is apathy.

If all the good people give up on democracy, then it will fail, and we will see something worse in its place. Your belief that the world can’t get any worse can make the world much, much worse.

I’m not saying our system of government couldn’t be radically improved. It absolutely could, even by relatively simple reforms, such as range voting and a universal basic income. But there are people who want to tear it all down, and if they succeed, what they put in its place is almost certainly going to be worse, not better.

That’s what happened in Communist countries, after all: They started with bad systems, they tore them down in the name of making something better—and then they didn’t make something better. They made something worse.

And I don’t think it’s an accident that Marxists are so often Conflict Theorists; Marx himself certainly was. Marx seemed convinced that all we needed to do was tear down the old system, and a new, better system would spontaneously emerge. But that isn’t how any of this works.

Good governance is actually really hard.

Life isn’t simple. People aren’t easy to coordinate. Conflicts of interest aren’t easy to resolve. Coordination failures are everywhere. If you tear down the best systems we have for solving these problems, with no vision at all of what you would replace them with, you’re not going to get something better.

Different people want different things. We have to resolve those disagreements somehow. There are lots of ways we could go about doing that. But so far, some variation on voting seems to be the best method we have for resolving disagreements fairly.

It’s true; some people out there are really just bad people. Some of what even good people want is ultimately not reasonable, or based on false presumptions. (Like people who want to “cut” foreign aid to 5% of the budget—when it is in fact about 1%.) Maybe there is some alternative system out there that could solve these problems better, ensure that only the reasonable voices with correct facts actually get heard.

If so, well, you know:

We’d all love to see the plan.

It’s not enough to recognize that our current system is flawed and posit that something better could exist. You need to actually have a clear vision of what that better system looks like. For if you go tearing down the current system without any idea of what to replace it with, you’re going to end up with something much worse.

Indeed, if you had a detailed plan of how to improve things, it’s quite possible you could convince enough people to get that plan implemented, without tearing down the whole system first.

We’ve done it before, after all:

We ended slavery, then racial segregation. We gave women the right to vote, then integrated them into the workforce. We removed the ban of homosexuality, and then legalized same-sex marriage.


We have a very clear track record of reform working. Things are getting better, on a lot of different fronts. (Maybe not all fronts, I admit.) When the moral case becomes overwhelming, we really can convince people to change their minds and then vote to change our policies.

We do not have such a track record when it comes to revolutions.

Yes, some revolutions have worked out well, such as the one that founded the United States. (But I really cannot emphasize this: they had a plan!) But plenty more have worked out very badly. Even France, which turned out okay in the end, had to go through a Napoleon phase first.

Overall, it seems like our odds are better when we treat the system as broken and try to fix it, than when we treat it as evil and try to tear it down.

The world could be a lot better than it is. But never forget: It could also be a lot worse.

Wrongful beneficence

Jun 9 JDN 2460471

One of the best papers I’ve ever read—one that in fact was formative in making me want to be an economist—is Wrongful Beneficence by Chris Meyers.

This paper opened my eyes to a whole new class of unethical behavior: Acts that unambiguously make everyone better off, but nevertheless are morally wrong. Hence, wrongful beneficence.

A lot of economists don’t even seem to believe in such things. They seem convinced that as long as no one is made worse off by a transaction, that transaction must be ethically defensible.

Chris Meyers convinced me that they are wrong.

The key insight here is that it’s still possible to exploit someone even if you make them better off. This happens when they are in a desperate situation and you take advantage of that to get an unfair payoff.


Here one of the cases Meyers offers to demonstrate this:

Suppose Carole is driving across the desert on a desolate road when her car breaks down. After two days and two nights without seeing a single car pass by, she runs out of water and feels rather certain that she will perish if not rescued soon. Now suppose that Jason happens to drive down this road and finds Carole. He sees that her situation is rather desperate and that she needs (or strongly desires) to get to the nearest town as soon as possible. So Jason offers her a ride but only on the condition that […] [she gives him] her entire net worth, the title to her house and car, all of her money in the bank, and half of her earnings for the next ten years.

Carole obviously is better off than she would be if Jason hadn’t shown up—she might even have died. She freely consented to this transaction—again, because if she didn’t, she might die. Yet it seems absurd to say that Jason has done nothing wrong by making such an exorbitant demand. If he had asked her to pay for gas, or even to compensate him for his time at a reasonable rate, we’d have no objection. But to ask for her life savings, all her assets, and half her earnings for ten years? Obviously unfair—and obviously unethical. Jason is making Carole (a little) better off while making himself (a lot) better off, so everyone is benefited; but what he’s doing is obviously wrong.

Once you recognize that such behavior can exist, you start to see it all over the place, particularly in markets, where corporations are quite content to gouge their customers with high prices and exploit their workers with low wages—but still, technically, we’re better off than we would be with no products and no jobs at all.

Indeed, the central message of Wrongful Beneficence is actually about sweatshop labor: It’s not that the workers are worse off than they would have been (in general, they aren’t); it’s that they are so desperate that corporations can get away with exploiting them with obviously unfair wages and working conditions.

Maybe it would be easier just to move manufacturing back to First World countries?

Right-wingers are fond of making outlandish claims that making products at First World wages would be utterly infeasible; here’s one claiming that an iPhone would need to cost $30,000 if it were made in the US. In fact, the truth is that it would only need to cost about $40 more—because hardly any of its cost is actually going to labor. Most of its price is pure monopoly profit for Apple; most of the rest is components and raw materials. (Of course, if those also had to come from the US, the price would go up more; but even so, we’re talking something like double its original price, not thirty times. Workers in the US are indeed paid a lot more than workers in China; they are also more productive.)

It’s true that actually moving manufacturing from other countries back to the US would be a substantial undertaking, requiring retooling factories, retraining engineers, and so on; but it’s not like we’ve never done that sort of thing before. I’m sure it could not be done overnight; but of course it could be done. We do this sort of thing all the time.

Ironically, this sort of right-wing nonsense actually seems to feed the far left as well, supporting their conviction that all this prosperity around us is nothing more than an illusion, that all our wealth only exists because we steal it from others. But this could scarcely be further from the truth; our wealth comes from technology, not theft. If we offered a fairer bargain to poorer countries, we’d be a bit less rich, but they would be much less poor—the overall wealth in the world would in fact probably increase.

A better argument for not moving manufacturing back to the First World is that many Third World economies would collapse if they stopped manufacturing things for other countries, and that would be disastrous for millions of people.

And free trade really does increase efficiency and prosperity for all.

So, yes; let’s keep on manufacturing goods wherever it is cheapest to do so. But when we decide what’s cheapest, let’s evaluate that based on genuinely fair wages and working conditions, not the absolute cheapest that corporations think they can get away with.

Sometimes they may even decide that it’s not really cheaper to manufacture in poorer countries, because they need advanced technology and highly-skilled workers that are easier to come by in First World countries. In that case, bringing production back here is the right thing to do.

Of course, this raises the question:

What would be fair wages and working conditions?

That’s not so easy to answer. Since workers in Third World countries are less educated than workers in First World countries, and have access to less capital and worse technology, we should in fact expect them to be less productive and therefore get paid less. That may be unfair in some cosmic sense, but it’s not anyone’s fault, and it’s not any particular corporation’s responsibility to fix it.

But when there are products for which less than 1% of the sales price of the product goes to the workers who actually made the product, something is wrong. When the profit margin is often wildly larger than the total amount spent on labor, something is wrong.

It may be that we will never have precise thresholds we can set to decide what definitely is or is not exploitative; but that doesn’t mean we can’t ever recognize it when we see it. There are various institutional mechanisms we could use to enforce better wages and working conditions without ever making such a sharp threshold.

One of the simplest, in fact, is Fair Trade.

Fair Trade is by no means a flawless system; in fact there’s a lot of research debating how effective it is at achieving its goals. But it does seem to be accomplishing something. And it’s a system that we already have in place, operating successfully in many countries; it simply needs to be scaled up (and hopefully improved along the way).

One of the clearest pieces of evidence that it’s helping, in fact, is that farmers are willing to participate in it. That shows that it is beneficent.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that it’s genuinely fair! This could just be another kind of wrongful beneficence. Perhaps Fair Trade is really just less exploitative than all the available alternatives.

If so, then we need something even better still, some new system that will reliably pass on the increased cost for customers all the way down to increased wages for workers.

Fair Trade shows us something else, too: A lot of customers clearly are willing to pay a bit more in order to see workers treated better. Even if they weren’t, maybe they should be forced to. But the fact is, they are! Even those who are most adamantly opposed to Fair Trade can’t deny that people really are willing to pay more to help other people. (Yet another example of obvious altruism that neoclassical economists somehow manage to ignore.) They simply deny that it’s actually helping, which is an empirical matter.

But if this isn’t helping enough, fine; let’s find something else that does.

Go ahead and identify as a season

Jun 2 JDN 2460464

A few weeks back, Fox News was running the story that “kids today are identifying as seasons instead of genders”. I suspected that by “kids today” they meant “one particular person on the Internet”, but in fact it was even worse than that; the one person on the Internet they had used as an example hadn’t actually said what Fox claimed they said.

What they actually said was far more nuanced: It was basically that their fluid gender expression varied based on what kind of clothes they wear, which, naturally, varies with the seasons. So they end up feeling more masculine at certain times of year when they like to wear masculine clothing. Honestly, this would be pretty boring stuff if conservatives hadn’t blown it out of proportion.

But after thinking about it for awhile, I decided that I don’t even care if kids want to identify as seasons.

It seems silly. I don’t understand why you’d want to do it. It would probably always feel weird to me. (And what pronouns do you even use for someone who identifies as “summer”?)

But ultimately, it seems completely, utterly harmless. So if there are in fact kids—or adults—out there who really feel that they want to identify their gender with a season, I’m here to tell you now:

Go right ahead and do that.

It’s really astonishing just what upsets conservatives in this world. Poverty? No big deal. Climate change? Probably a hoax or something. War? That’s just how it goes. But kids with weird genders!? The horror! The horror!

I think the reasoning here goes something like this:

  1. Civilization is built upon social constructions.
  2. Social constructions rely upon consensus behavior.
  3. Consensus behavior relies upon shared norms.
  4. Challenging any shared norms challenges all shared norms.
  5. Challenging any norm will cause it to collapse.
  6. Challenging gender norms is challenging a shared norm.
  7. Therefore, challenging gender norms will cause civilization to collapse.

Premises 1 through 3 are true, though I suspect that phrases like “social construction” would actually not sit well with most conservatives. (Part of their whole shtick seems to be that if you simply admit that money, government, and national identity are socially constructed, that in itself will cause them to immediately and irretrievably collapse. Nevermind that I can tell you money is made up all day long, and you’ll still be able to spend it.)

Premise 6 is also true, indeed, nearly tautological.

And, indeed, the argument is valid; the conclusion would follow from the premises.

So of course we come to the two premises that aren’t valid.


Premise 4 is wrong because you can challenge some norms but not others. I have yet to see anyone seriously challenge the norm against murder, for example. Nor does it even seem especially popular to challenge the norm in favor of democratic voting. But those are the kind of norms that actually sustain our civilization—not gender!

And premise 5 is even worse: A norm that can’t withstand even the slightest challenge is a norm that’s too weak to rely upon in the first place. If our civilization is to be strong and robust, it must allow its norms to be challenged, and those norms must be able to sustain themselves against the challenge. And indeed, if someone were to challenge the norm against murder or the norm in favor of democratic voting, there are plenty of things I could say to reply to that challenge. These norms aren’t arbitrary. They are strong because we can defend them.

What about gender norms? How defensible are they?

Well, uh… not very, it turns out.

The existence of sexes is defensible. Humans are sexually dimorphic, and the vast majority of humans can be readily classified as either male or female. Yes, there are exceptions even to that, and those people count too. But it’s a pretty useful and accurate heuristic to divide our species into two sexes.

But gender norms are so much more than this. We don’t simply recognize that some people have penises and others have vaginas. We attach all sorts of social and behavioral requirements to people based on their bodies, many of which are utterly arbitrary and culturally dependent. (Not all, to be fair: The stereotype that men are stronger than women is itself a very useful and accurate heuristic.)

Worse, we don’t merely assign stereotypes to predict behavior—which might sometimes be useful. We assign norms to control behavior. We tell people who deviate from those norms that they are bad. We abuse them, discriminate against them, ostracize them from society. This is really weird.

And for what?

What benefit do gender norms have?

I can see how norms against murder and in favor of democracy sustain our civilization. I’m just not seeing how norms against using she/her pronouns when you have a penis provide similar support.

It’s true, most human societies throughout history have had strict gender norms, so maybe that’s some sort of evidence in their favor… but how about we at least try not having them for awhile? Or just relax them here and there, a little at a time, see how it goes? If indeed it seems to result in some sort of disaster, we’ll stop doing it. But I don’t see how it could—and so far, it hasn’t.

I think maybe the problem here is that conservatives don’t understand how to evaluate norms, or perhaps even that norms can be evaluated. To them, a rule is a rule, and you never challenge the rules, because if there were no rules, there would be chaos and destruction.

But challenging some rules—or even all rules—doesn’t mean having no rules! It means checking to make sure our rules are good rules, and if they aren’t, changing them so they are.

And since I see no particular reason why having two genders is an especially good rule, go ahead, make up some more if you want.

Go ahead and identify if a season, if you really want to.