Democracy and "Feel Good Economics"

For all of its praise and grandeur, democracy can really be a son of a bitch. While being the fairest, freest, and most successful system in the history of the world deserves our glorification, we would be remiss to call it perfect. The main problem with democracy is that decisions are essentially made by those with skewed views and those who are uninformed, the people. They support ideas that, while on the surface seem to be noble, fair, and smart they are actually short sighted, unfair, and dangerous. People who vote for or support these type of ideas are supporting "feel good economics"(phrase copyright Brian J Hannibal 2009).

Let's look at the issue of outsourcing. According to a Harris poll of 4000 Americans only 16% support the outsourcing of jobs to other countries. On the surface, it looks as though outsourcing is a terrible idea. How could Americans losing jobs be a good thing? We are supposedly getting weaker while other countries gets stronger. This is a perfect example of "feel good economics".

In 1930, Senator Willis C Hawley and Representative Reed Smoot felt as 84% of Americans feel today. At that time many agricultural jobs were being sent over seas as globalization was beginning to take hold. Farmers were complaining and politicians were trying to get elected. Disregarding a petition signed by 1,028 economists, The Smoot-Hawley act was passed on June 17, 1930. This act raised tariffs on nearly 20,000 imported goods to unprecedented levels. It turned out to be a disaster of epic proportions. Countries around the world retaliated out of fear for their own well being, the miracle of competitive advantage disappeared, and not so coincidentally the world fell into The Great Depression.

Here is what Congress and President Hoover failed to understand. You do not need to protect jobs, you need to make sure that your economy is so fluid that it can quickly adapt to any changes it faces. In simple terms, if Americans can get ears of corn from Mexico for $1 instead of $1.25, every corn buying American has essentially received a raise of .25. If you multiply this over 20,000 products then every American has received a substantial raise. With this new found income Americans now have the means to create new markets that would not have been able to flourish at the prior income levels. In this case, the corn shucker loses his job only to find new work at a radio making factory (an example). Everyone is better off in this fluid system, including the foreign countries who now have more money with which to buy our goods. This is a healthy economy.

This issue relates today with the Obama administration trying to please the uninformed voters by adding a clause to the new stimulation packages that ensures all public projects must use domestic raw materials (at a substantially higher cost). As we can learn from Smoot-Hawley, this is actually anti-stimulus.

With the issues of the world being so complex and contradictory, coming to the correct answer to a problem almost always requires more analysis than what the average voter is capable of. The majority of voters make decisions based on whether an issue is self serving, smart, and just.


They just want to "feel good".

THE OVERLY FRIENDLY SKIES

The following was contributed by James Jenson.

First off, I want to be clear that I am not an expert on air travel social norms, nor do I have a large sample size to base this observation on, but I have a strong feeling that my intuition is spot on. I have seen what I am about to describe far too many times for it to be a coincidence or an irregular occurrence. My question: What is it about being 30,000 ft. above the ground, packed in a long narrow metal tube with one or two hundred people, traveling at 500 mph, that turns otherwise complete strangers into best friends?

A couple of weeks ago I was aboard a flight from Sacramento to San Diego. The flight was nearly full, but I had managed to get a window seat in the very back row next to a vacant middle seat. I was seated, belt buckled, head back, and ready to sleep away the short 80 minute trip when I made a crucial mistake. Knowing full well the possible repercussions of my actions, I let my guard down for one second and lifted my eyes to scan the width of the cabin. As soon as I noticed my vulnerability, it was too late. My eyes had unfortunately scanned too far and were now locked in a conversation starting stare with the woman in the aisle seat to my left. I managed a lazy courteous smile and nod, hoping to turn my head fast enough towards the window, but she was too quick and well prepared. “Great luck huh? This full of a flight and we manage to get an empty seat between us so we aren’t so crammed” she said. Again I went with the lazy smile and nod, but added a confirming “yeah.” Although in my head I was thinking that at this point I would rather have anything between me and this lady to deflect her innate desire to be my best friend for the next hour and twenty minutes. “So are you going home or leaving home?” she continued. “Going home” I responded. By this point I knew that nothing would stop this lady from single handily ruining this flight. “Oh, me too! My husband and I are.....” That’s about all I heard of her next ramble as I stared blankly in her direction. I couldn’t possibly care enough to concentrate on what she was saying. “So why were you in Sacramento?” she pried. “Job interview.” I replied with a little less fake enthusiasm or interest in my voice. I was praying at this point for anything to save me from this interrogation. 80 minutes was more than enough time for a pro like her to find out everything there is to know about my life. As she was getting ready for her next round of verbal punches, I looked up and saw the answer to my prayers. In the aisle in front of us stood one of the final passengers to board the plane, a man in a dark suit the size of my refrigerator, breathing heavily, brow beading with sweat, gesturing to occupy the vacant seat between myself and the irritant woman. Under normal conditions this situation would cause immediate frustration and natural disgust, but on this flight, it was an act of God. I knew that this mountain of a man had no desire to waste one precious breath on pointless conversation. He was having a hard enough time trying to regulate his normal breathing pattern. For the duration of the flight I sat awkwardly pressed against the window smiling, knowing full well that I narrowly avoided being yet another victim of the overly friendly skies.

Boston’s take on Mexican food

While walking home from my bball game I noticed a small dubious mexican food establishment and figured I would give it a try. When I entered I was astonished at the authenticity of the enterprise. They had a salsa bar, they did not refer to a carne asada burrito as a steak burrito, and there were actual mexicans preparing the fare. Due to the precarious mexican food I have had in Boston since my arrival I decided to play it safe and ordered the cheese enchiladas. After ordering from the small stature mexican compadre who spoke an encouragingly small amount English I was feeling pretty good about my dinner decision. I walked over to the salsa bar and took inventory of the offerings. They had a green sauce, a red sauce, and some chunky pico, your standard affair. After little deliberation I opted to get red sauce and some chunky pico. Next thing I knew, I heard a man yell," yeez enhilladas" and I was on my way home. When I opened the styrofoam container I was delighted to see a familiar meal in front of me. This was the end of my happiness for the night. After the first bite I noticed that the cheese in the enchilada was melted string cheese. I knew this because I tried to do the same thing on some pasta about a month back. I am not sure if you know, but when you melt string cheese you have to chew it for no less than 45 seconds before you can swallow, otherwise you choke. After this disappointment I knew hot sauce was the only thing that could save this once promising feast. I poured red sauce on my rice, beans, and on top of my enchiladas. I took my first bite and realized it was not hot sauce, it was Boston's favorite condiment, buffalo sauce. I took two more bites, looked down and realized that here I am with 2 corn tortillas with melted string cheese inside and smothered in buffalo sauce. I threw the foul combination of food in the garbage and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I am through trying to find good mexican food in Boston.