A collection of shorter musings that don’t warrant full blog posts. Click on any item to expand and read.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve heard a variety of creative explanations for why working in the finance industry is a potentially praiseworthy pursuit:
None of these is very convincing to me. There are many legitimate reasons why one might want to go into finance: high salaries/compensation, rapid feedback from the market about whether you’re right or wrong, smart colleagues, an energising culture (depending on the firm). But unless you are specifically pursuing a well-paid career to give more money to charity, I think it is really very disingenuous to pretend (or imply) that social impact is what drives your choices.
One recurring feature about this particular pattern of motivated reasoning is that people often seem determined to arrive at the conclusion that the industry (or just their part in it) is roughly neutral, all things considered – i.e., not net negative.
It’s never usually clear how this neutrality is assessed – relative to a world where you didn’t go into finance (but presumably someone else just filled the position instead)? Relative to the vastly-different world where we have nothing resembling a finance industry? Using an entirely different method that doesn’t appeal to counterfactuals?
As someone who finds the doing/allowing distinction deeply unintuitive, I claim that it is not of much moral importance whether your job avoids doing harm – it matters far more how the job compares to what else you could be doing.
Suppose I am a biophysicist and know my research will totally cure cancer, but because of my inability to play the academic politics game, I won’t get any public credit or profit. It seems pretty obvious it would be wrong for me to decide I’ll instead work at a high-frequency trading fund, even granting every pro-finance argument above and assuming the industry is “net neutral”.
Aiming to do no harm is like following the clichéd tourist guidance to leave only footprints – yet you can aim a lot higher than to have all the impact of your work washed away as soon as you move on. Build castles; plant seeds; strive to create a legacy rather than treading on this world so lightly you make no marks at all. Mere harmlessness leaves far too much on the table.
See also: Moral Ambition, The Life Goals of Dead People, Scott Alexander on Nietzsche.
Among the many benefits of having interactions within a high-trust environment is that you don’t need to keep generating costly signals of acting in good faith – others will assume it by default. I recently spent >2.5h writing & editing a feedback email that only really needed to take 15min, with all the extra time being consumed by me finding ways to persuade the recipient that I really do want them to succeed, and gathering extremely specific evidence to support my claims (since unfortunately I expect they would otherwise – and perhaps even still – be defensive and non-receptive).
If you can create & sustain a culture where the costs of giving feedback are low, much more of it will be surfaced, and this is a very valuable thing: it’s far easier to filter out unhelpful observations than it is to hear what nobody is telling you.
See also: radical transparency, psychological safety, non-violent communication.
An entertaining new game I came up with, inspired by a rather naively grumbling
Jemima Kelly column:
paste in lots of your own personal data into
an LLM
Some examples of data – though carefully consider whether you want this to be available for LLM training, especially if it’s not all your own (e.g. DMs):
You could also simply give the LLM your name and get it to use deep research tools, but that spoils things, since it’ll just find your LinkedIn profile and so know all your demographic details.
There’s something quite fun about being at the centre of something else’s attention & analysis (even if you still are the initiator of it), and it’s interesting to see the accuracy of inferences which can be made from relatively publicly-available information. Plus, it gets you thinking about what sorts of rich data you might want to share with other humans to help them get to know you better.
Police in the UK have pretty much given up on dealing with bike theft, to the extent that this is now a standard « progress studies x populism » talking point. I couldn’t quickly find long-run statistics on solving & charging rates for shoplifting or fraud but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a similar pattern.
There are quite a few other examples of enforcement agencies basically not doing their job:
(There are also many examples of regulatory incompetence, but that’s not quite the thing I’m going for here.)
Why does this matter? Well, it seems like if you’re going to have rules you ought to enforce them, otherwise you’ll be needlessly creating eroding societal norms around rule-following. As described in an excellent piece on the defeat of drunk driving, it’s much easier to successfully stamp out a socially undesirable behaviour once there is a widespread acceptance that it is unacceptable – but that only happens once the incidence of the behaviour is low enough for it to be an exception rather than what is expected. Unfortunately, I suspect that it’s less resource-intensive (and more encouraged by politicians & the media) for regulators / police to use a small number of high-profile punishments as cautionary examples than it is for them to consistently catch and reprimand as many offenders as possible.1 As a result, the vast majority of offenders get away with things completely unimpeded, and the behaviour ends up totally normalised.
24 Apr: this amusing Bagehot column on “banning things harder” pre-empted the latest silly Lib Dem proposal
20 Jun: the discussion above is very closely related to the concept of state capacity. HMRC failing to collect tax it’s owed is a prime example of non-enforcement, and my sense is that often this comes about due to authorities not having enough information to work with. Famously, the majority of government revenue in the 18th-19th centuries came from tariffs: states lacked the bureaucratic apparatus to charge direct taxes on income/profits and the political capital (or oversight of businesses) to introduce sales taxes – but they were able to put enough officials at ports to reliably collect customs duties. Even today, informational issues constrain the government’s space of feasible policies: this article made an interesting point about the challenge of accurately valuing businesses & other assets is a significant obstacle to introducing new wealth taxes. There are quite a few enjoyable political economy papers along these lines.
See, for example, how infrequent entries on the ICO’s “Enforcement action” page are. ↩︎
The FT has a new feature where you can get a summary of their articles, which comes with this button at the top:
I’d read the wording and the ✨sparkle✨ as hinting that the AI summary will be produced on-the-fly. And these expectations would seem to be confirmed by the animations they use when you load the page and click the button.
But it turns out that this summary has been pre-written, since it was “edited by an FT journalist”!
I’m sure it must have been a deliberate design choice to make it seem like the summary is genuinely generated in response to your click – there’s no reason otherwise why they wouldn’t have just used a simple toggle. (It’s a bit strange why they didn’t realise this would be so transparently misleading, though.)
What makes interactivity so appealing? I think it’s that you get the sense of being in control & writing your own story, which means that things feel like they’re unique. Everyone knows that children like things you can click – every time I went to museums in London as a young child, my favourite place to visit was the energy hall at the Science Museum, because they had the most touchscreens with buttons to press. Seems like the FT has concluded that adults want more of that in their lives too.
See also: Nate Silver and Zvi on airport efficiency-maxxing.
It’s very easy for me to signal to a company that I’m not interested in buying a product of theirs – I just don’t buy it. Since the company gets the sales data “for free” from stocking the item, they can remove unpopular items from sale without putting in much effort to surveying consumers for their tastes, or similar.
On the other hand, it’s much harder to communicate to them that they’re failing to stock something that I’d pay good money for (as I would’ve liked to while trying and failing to buy some frozen soya beans and vegan mayonnaise in Oxford). In an earlier era I might go chat to the store manager, but nowadays I expect that the shop staff don’t have anything to do with what gets ordered in (except at small family-run convenience stores and suchlike).
This generalises to other products and services. What things are out there that nobody has picked up on the latent demand for?
(Title inspired by a famous book about startups by Peter Thiel called Zero to One.)
Added on 14 Apr: projecting demand for new infrastructure projects is a great example of this challenge.