Why the Technology = Progress narrative must be challenged

John Naughton in The Guardian

Those who cannot remember the past,” wrote the American philosopher George Santayana in 1905, “are condemned to repeat it.” And now, 118 years later, here come two American economists with the same message, only with added salience, for they are addressing a world in which a small number of giant corporations are busy peddling a narrative that says, basically, that what is good for them is also good for the world.

That this narrative is self-serving is obvious, as is its implied message: that they should be allowed to get on with their habits of “creative destruction” (to use Joseph Schumpeter’s famous phrase) without being troubled by regulation. Accordingly, any government that flirts with the idea of reining in corporate power should remember that it would then be standing in the way of “progress”: for it is technology that drives history and anything that obstructs it is doomed to be roadkill.

One of the many useful things about this formidable (560-page) tome is its demolition of the tech narrative’s comforting equation of technology with “progress”. Of course the fact that our lives are infinitely richer and more comfortable than those of the feudal serfs we would have been in the middle ages owes much to technological advances. Even the poor in western societies enjoy much higher living standards today than three centuries ago, and live healthier, longer lives.

But a study of the past 1,000 years of human development, Acemoglu and Johnson argue, shows that “the broad-based prosperity of the past was not the result of any automatic, guaranteed gains of technological progress… Most people around the globe today are better off than our ancestors because citizens and workers in earlier industrial societies organised, challenged elite-dominated choices about technology and work conditions, and forced ways of sharing the gains from technical improvements more equitably.”

Acemoglu and Johnson begin their Cook’s tour of the past millennium with the puzzle of how dominant narratives – like that which equates technological development with progress – get established. The key takeaway is unremarkable but critical: those who have power define the narrative. That’s how banks get to be thought of as “too big to fail”, or why questioning tech power is “luddite”. But their historical survey really gets under way with an absorbing account of the evolution of agricultural technologies from the neolithic age to the medieval and early modern eras. They find that successive developments “tended to enrich and empower small elites while generating few benefits for agricultural workers: peasants lacked political and social power, and the path of technology followed the vision of a narrow elite.” 

A similar moral is extracted from their reinterpretation of the Industrial Revolution. This focuses on the emergence of a newly emboldened middle class of entrepreneurs and businessmen whose vision rarely included any ideas of social inclusion and who were obsessed with the possibilities of steam-driven automation for increasing profits and reducing costs.

The shock of the second world war led to a brief interruption in the inexorable trend of continuous technological development combined with increasing social exclusion and inequality. And the postwar years saw the rise of social democratic regimes focused on Keynesian economics, welfare states and shared prosperity. But all of this changed in the 1970s with the neoliberal turn and the subsequent evolution of the democracies we have today, in which enfeebled governments pay obeisance to giant corporations – more powerful and profitable than anything since the East India Company. These create astonishing wealth for a tiny elite (not to mention lavish salaries and bonuses for their executives) while the real incomes of ordinary people have remained stagnant, precarity rules and inequality returning to pre-1914 levels.

Coincidentally, this book arrives at an opportune moment, when digital technology, currently surfing on a wave of irrational exuberance about ubiquitous AI, is booming, while the idea of shared prosperity has seemingly become a wistful pipe dream. So is there anything we might learn from the history so graphically recounted by Acemoglu and Johnson?

Answer: yes. And it’s to be found in the closing chapter, which comes up with a useful list of critical steps that democracies must take to ensure that the proceeds of the next technological wave are more generally shared among their populations. Interestingly, some of the ideas it explores have a venerable provenance, reaching back to the progressive movement that brought the robber barons of the early 20th century to heel.

There are three things that need to be done by a modern progressive movement. First, the technology-equals-progress narrative has to be challenged and exposed for what it is: a convenient myth propagated by a huge industry and its acolytes in government, the media and (occasionally) academia. The second is the need to cultivate and foster countervailing powers – which critically should include civil society organisations, activists and contemporary versions of trade unions. And finally, there is a need for progressive, technically informed policy proposals, and the fostering of thinktanks and other institutions that can supply a steady flow of ideas about how digital technology can be repurposed for human flourishing rather than exclusively for private profit.

None of this is rocket science. It can be done. And it needs to be done if liberal democracies are to survive the next wave of technological evolution and the catastrophic acceleration of inequality that it will bring. So – who knows? Maybe this time we might really learn something from history.

Schumpeter's long revenge

By Chan Akya in Asia Times Online

News about major retail chains such as HMV and Blockbuster closing shop inevitably attract greater than usual attention because they sell media content and therefore operate on the edge of the world of entertainment. That said, the demise was fairly obvious to anyone who had read their balance sheets, which have been decimated by technological changes led essentially by Apple but more generically by the broader applications of the Internet and improved hardware. 

Selling and renting films respectively, HMV and Blockbuster were a key part of all retail malls and "high" streets in the UK with similar brands in other countries including in Hong Kong and Singapore. The advent of amazon.com was the first shot across their bows; one that both chains failed to heed. As the business of selling books through bookstores evaporated in the late '90s, the retail chains selling and renting movies and music failed to make the connection between the physical world and the augmented reality shopping of the Internet. 

The process was to accelerate with improved software - Apple's iTunes comes to mind - even as hardware continued to provide an underwhelming experience. The inability to bridge the quality gaps in films and music (or else apply them to an environment where more people were using crummy mobile devices for enjoying the same) simply meant that all competition ended up being about price. This was the wrong battleground and, much like Napoleon's forces marooned in the harsh Russian winter 200 years ago, the retail chains were destroyed. 

Oddly enough, HMV also played a small part in the global financial crisis; one of the largest lawsuits from that era pertained to Guy Hands' private equity firm Terra Firm filing suit for misrepresentations against its banker, Citibank, over its purchase of EMI from which HMV had been spun off to a separate listing in 1998. 

Although the suit was pretty quickly dismissed, opportunities for mirth abounded from the materials provided as part of the proceedings. Such large leveraged buyouts generated billions in loans that were purchased by collateralized loan obligation vehicles, which in turn were partly funded by the shadow banking system that helped to fell the global economy in 2007-08. 

In any event, the various reorganization plans filed by HMV management provided fodder for private equity firms on its own; in parallel, Blockbuster went through its own interaction with the forces of competition. While the global business of Blockbuster went into administration in 2010, the company continued to operate in many parts of the world. Last week's closure of the UK business is a continuation of the global process. 

The circle of stupidity

On the other end of the scale from market forces is the circle of stupidity that underpins global monetary policy today. 

An industrial version of the HMV/ Blockbuster process of creative destruction is Japan, an article about which I wrote late last year, touching upon the effects of competitive landscape changes ushered in by the pincer grip of South Korea and China at the branded and generic ends of manufacturing respectively; even as sclerotic politics and inane monetary policies end up accelerating the decline. (See The end of Japan as we know it, Asia Times Online, November 27, 2012). 

Following the elections, Japan's monetary policy impetus has moved into aggressive easing as the government and the Bank of Japan attempt to push the yen sharply lower by easing quantitative policy and accelerating the purchase of bonds issued by the US and European governments (the Italians and the Spanish sent a couple of "thank you" notes to the new government, presumably). 

Meanwhile, other Asian countries - primarily Korea and China - are increasing their own purchase of Japanese government bonds to offset the effect of a falling yen on their own currencies. And all along, Federal Reserve chairman Ben Bernanke and European Central Bank president Mario Draghi are cheerfully printing money by the trillions to support yawning fiscal deficits and to keep their currencies from rising. 

Think of the average pensioner anywhere in the Group of Eight leading industrialized nations and the picture is downright depressing. With regular income from bonds and bank accounts whittled down to barely nothing, they are being forced to take on financial risks by purchasing "high dividend" stocks or worse, corporate bonds. These are not folks who are equipped to analyze such risks, let alone manage them. 

Businesses go bust when they run out of liquidity, not when they run out of "capital" or any such esoteric concept. Granted that HMV and Blockbuster were so bad that not even all the money sloshing around the global financial system could save them, but that also raises the question of how many companies and governments survive today because of the excess money sloshing around. 

At the very least, we know that interest rates and risk premia are severely depressed in G-8 countries and, as a result, across much of the financial world. There are countries that would be considered borderline default where government bond spreads are trading well under 5%, an anomaly that makes no sense irrespective of the "base" funding rate. Similarly, equity markets are getting record inflows at a time when valuations aren't exactly cheap anywhere in the world. 

Such conditions are usually spelt b-u-b-b-l-e; and I entirely hold Bernanke, Draghi and their kin responsible for this state of affairs. There will be time of reckoning later, but for now we will have to live with all the Keynesian rationalization. 

Why is Schumpeter important

One of the key defenses used by those seeking to broaden the ambit of monetary policy whilst emptying government coffers is that corporate closures are bad form and cause disruptions for employees and other stakeholders alike. This is indeed true over the short term, but over the longer term the truth is perhaps in the opposite direction and in line with the views of Austrian economist Joseph Schumpeter on "creative destruction". 

Systems that weed out inefficient capital users end up deploying funds to more deserving users thereby reducing the overall risk of the system and increasing the gap between risky and less risky ventures; this extra compensation therefore ends up attracting more robust capital - and perhaps more appropriate capital for risky ventures. 

In contrast to this, folk who lend money to French companies - typically only other French folk - see their risk analysis dulled by constant government intervention and corporate subsidies (internally) to their worst divisions. When the car firm Peugeot decided to shutter some plants and fire workers recently, the howls of protest were loudest from the country's socialist government, which may however not have quite realized that by denying the company such internal efficiencies they inevitably put the firm at a longer-term disadvantage that increases the chances of a comprehensive collapse at a later date. 

Investors in such countries will also be confused as to the correct risk premium for a loss-making company compared to that for a profitable company; because debt is about getting one's funds back, the question becomes academic if loss-makers are routinely bailed out. This dulls the calculation of risk, inevitably driving inappropriate funds - pension funds and the like - towards risky assets. 

That is the reason why the HMV and Blockbuster stories are important. By providing a timely reminder that bad businesses will not survive even the easiest of monetary conditions, they have served to remind all of us of events likely to unfold when the price of money starts adjusting towards more appropriate levels.