Love, money and manipulating the American spender.
Economics and Valentine's Day go together like broccoli and chocolate. But we're a business site, so we can't help but see the news through supply and demand -- even when the news is candy hearts and flowers.
The average person will shell out $116.21 on Valentine's Day merchandise this year, up 12.8 percent over last year's $103.00, according to estimates from the;
National Retail Foundation. That will bring total holiday spending to about $15.7 billion. Sixteen billion doesn't look like much when you put it next to our $14 trillion economy.
But in some industries, it's absolutely vital. Valentine's Day is Christmas for florists. The same way some electronic stores make up to half their yearly revenue in end-of-year shopping, some florists make up to 40% of their annual haul in February sales.
You'd think stats like this would make economists fall in love with Valentine's, especially in an economy with skinny wallets. Consumption makes up more than half of GDP by some measures, so what's not to like about a holiday that compels us to spend money -- out of love, out of guilt, or most likely some combination thereof? The Atlantic Wire finds a decidedly unromatic-sounding economist (like finding ice in a freezer, I guess) to break it down:
"There's an underlying level of commercial exchange and if you were an economist, you would just look at that as the main reason that we have Valentine's Day," [Duke professor Dan Ariely] says, reminding us, somewhat tangentially, of why some economists have trouble finding dates on this special day.
In other words, the main reason why have Valentine's Day is to stimulate commerce. It's a dismal view, but hey, it's a dismal science.
But it's not obvious that a day created to stimulate commerce really stimulates. Think about how Valentine's day encourages you to think differently about buying for that special someone. If I want to buy her a necklace, maybe I'll wait until February 14. If I want to take her to her favorite restaurant, maybe I'll wait until February 14. Seen in this light, we cannot say the Valentine's Day "stimulus" is $16 billion because those necklaces and dinners would have been bought, anyway. Valentine's didn't create economic activity, it just concentrated it.
If this is starting to sound familiar, it's only because Washington has been using stimulus policy to create it own little Valentine's Days for the economy in the last two years. We had a housing tax credit to concentrate home purchases and a Cash-for-Clunkers program to move auto purchases. In December, we got a one-year payroll tax holiday (that word ain't no coincidence) with a special one-year business tax credit to encourage families and businesses to get into the holiday spirit in 2011 and spend, spend, spend.
Some economists will argue that all these Valentine's gifts to the economy do nothing more than steal demand from the past and future. They might be right. Thinking back to February 14, some Valentine's gifts would have happened anyway ... but some couples really are inspired by the invention of Valentine's Day. Can you honestly say that the mythology of the roses and rom-coms and the chocolate rabbits never inspired you to splurge on a nicer hotel room, or order an extra bottle of wine or dessert?
That extra motivation can pay off in two ways down the line. First, it puts more money in the pockets of hotels and restaurants. Second, it might create an expectation for more expensive nights down the road, appreciably raising overall relationship spending.
The bottom line is that we don't know if Valentine's Day really stimulate the economy any more than we know the impact of any other stimulus. Might as well put down our swords for a day, and focus our attention on that special someone -- or maybe just the chocolate bunny.
Forget the Common Core, Finland’s youngsters are in charge of determining what happens in the classroom.
“The changes to kindergarten make me sick,” a veteran teacher in Arkansas recently admitted to me. “Think about what you did in first grade—that’s what my 5-year-old babies are expected to do.”
The difference between first grade and kindergarten may not seem like much, but what I remember about my first-grade experience in the mid-90s doesn’t match the kindergarten she described in her email: three and a half hours of daily literacy instruction, an hour and a half of daily math instruction, 20 minutes of daily “physical activity time” (officially banned from being called “recess”) and two 56-question standardized tests in literacy and math—on the fourth week of school.
That American friend—who teaches 20 students without an aide—has fought to integrate 30 minutes of “station time” into the literacy block, which includes “blocks, science, magnetic letters, play dough with letter stamps to practice words, books, and storytelling.” But the most controversial area of her classroom isn’t the blocks nor the stamps: Rather, it’s the “house station with dolls and toy food”—items her district tried to remove last year. The implication was clear: There’s no time for play in kindergarten anymore.
Even in big cities like Tokyo, small children take the subway and run errands by themselves. The reason has a lot to do with group dynamics.
It’s a common sight on Japanese mass transit: Children troop through train cars, singly or in small groups, looking for seats.
They wear knee socks, polished patent-leather shoes, and plaid jumpers, with wide-brimmed hats fastened under the chin and train passes pinned to their backpacks. The kids are as young as 6 or 7, on their way to and from school, and there is nary a guardian in sight.
A popular television show called Hajimete no Otsukai, or My First Errand, features children as young as two or three being sent out to do a task for their family. As they tentatively make their way to the greengrocer or bakery, their progress is secretly filmed by a camera crew. The show has been running for more than 25 years.
A new study finds that people today who eat and exercise the same amount as people 20 years ago are still fatter.
There’s a meme aimed at Millennial catharsis called “Old Economy Steve.” It’s a series of pictures of a late-70s teenager, who presumably is now a middle-aged man, that mocks some of the messages Millennials say they hear from older generations—and shows why they’re deeply janky. Old Economy Steve graduates and gets a job right away. Old Economy Steve “worked his way through college” because tuition was $400. And so forth.
We can now add another one to that list: Old Economy Steve ate at McDonald’s almost every day, and he still somehow had a 32-inch waist.
A study published recently in the journal Obesity Research & Clinical Practice found that it’s harder for adults today to maintain the same weight as those 20 to 30 years ago did, even at the same levels of food intake and exercise.
Some businesspeople are working half of the week in far-off countries or catching 3 a.m. trains just so that they don’t have to uproot their lives at home.
A few years back, David Neeleman, the founder of JetBlue Airways, left his company and launched a new airline in Brazil. The airline, Azul, flies 22 million people a year, employs 12,000 people, and is the fastest-growing carrier in the region.
You’d think running such a large, complex operation would require a move to South America. But Neeleman commutes to Azul’s Sao Paulo headquarters every week from his home in Connecticut, taking the 10-hour redeye on Sunday nights and returning on Thursdays. This way, he says, he doesn’t have to uproot his family of 10 kids.
“My wife wasn’t so interested in moving,” said Neeleman, who recently bought TAP, Portugal’s national airline and is now commuting there as well. “We had all these kids playing [American] football and lacrosse. They don’t have those sports in Brazil.”
In the movie Up in the Air, George Clooney successfully captures the road-warrior ethos that has long been associated with, say, business consultants from firms like McKinsey & Company who work on projects outside their hometowns and spend most of their week in hotels. But now, more and more executives around the world are choosing to take on lengthy commutes on a permanent basis, even if their jobs don’t demand it. Increasing globalization and tech-enabled workplace flexibility are certainly part of the reason why. But a more child-centered approach to parenting also seems to be a factor, as these executives make other major sacrifices in order to balance their professional and home lives.
Your income, how long you dated, and how many people attend your wedding affect the odds you'll stay together.
A diamond is forever, but an expensive engagement ring means the marriage might not last that long. According to a new study, spending between $2,000 and $4,000 on an engagement ring is significantly associated with an increase in the risk of divorce.
The data scientist Randal Olson recently visualized some of the findings from a paper by Andrew Francis and Hugo Mialon, two researchers at Emory University who studied 3,000 married couples in the U.S. to determine the factors that predicted divorce. They analyzed income, religious attendance, how important attractiveness was to each partner, wedding attendance, and other metrics to determine the aspects associated with eventual marital dissolution.
Any attempt to address mass incarceration has to begin with an effort to tackle crime—and the social conditions linked to its rise.
With the publication of “The Black Family in the Age of Mass Incarceration” Ta-Nehisi Coates has added an elegant and forceful voice to the growing frustration with the inefficacy and injustice of America’s criminal-justice system. Mandatory-sentencing laws, the War on Drugs, juvenile-justice sentences that seem to do more to create than deter criminals, racial arrest and sentencing disparities: All are ready for a tough national cross-examination.
But even in the unlikely event that Washington and state legislatures successfully adapt the nation’s crime policies to a safer, more racially sensitive era, the nation will still look around to find more black men in prison than it might expect or want. There’s a simple reason for that, one that Coates himself notes: Relative to other groups, blacks commit more crimes. To understand why is to tackle some very hard-to-talk-about realities of black family life. And on that issue—and despite his announced interest in the topic—Coates has been the opposite of lucid.
David Hume, the Buddha, and a search for the Eastern roots of the Western Enlightenment
In2006, i was 50—and I was falling apart.
Until then, I had always known exactly who I was: an exceptionally fortunate and happy woman, full of irrational exuberance and everyday joy.
I knew who I was professionally. When I was 16, I’d discovered cognitive science and analytic philosophy, and knew at once that I wanted the tough-minded, rigorous, intellectual life they could offer me. I’d gotten my doctorate at 25 and had gone on to become a professor of psychology and philosophy at UC Berkeley.
I knew who I was personally, too. For one thing, I liked men. I was never pretty, but the heterosexual dance of attraction and flirtation had always been an important part of my life, a background thrum that brightened and sharpened all the rest. My closest friends and colleagues had all been men.
Not all purveyors of art think the male form gets enough attention. Exhibitions like Sascha Schneider’s show at the Leslie Lohman Museum of Gay and Lesbian Art have highlighted the importance of the male nude and its relationship to history; but others, including the recent "Masculine/Masculine" retrospective at the Musée d'Orsay, have prompted the question: "Why had there never been an exhibition dedicated the male nude until … last year?" The answer: Unlike female bodies, which are supposedly mysterious and full of secrets, male bodies are boring—or at least they're presented that way. A new book, Universal Hunks: A Pictoral History of Muscular Men Around the World, 1895-1975, provides a little more perspective.
In the name of emotional well-being, college students are increasingly demanding protection from words and ideas they don’t like. Here’s why that’s disastrous for education—and mental health.
Something strange is happening at America’s colleges and universities. A movement is arising, undirected and driven largely by students, to scrub campuses clean of words, ideas, and subjects that might cause discomfort or give offense. Last December, Jeannie Suk wrote in an online article for The New Yorker about law students asking her fellow professors at Harvard not to teach rape law—or, in one case, even use the word violate (as in “that violates the law”) lest it cause students distress. In February, Laura Kipnis, a professor at Northwestern University, wrote an essay in The Chronicle of Higher Education describing a new campus politics of sexual paranoia—and was then subjected to a long investigation after students who were offended by the article and by a tweet she’d sent filed Title IX complaints against her. In June, a professor protecting himself with a pseudonym wrote an essay for Vox describing how gingerly he now has to teach. “I’m a Liberal Professor, and My Liberal Students Terrify Me,” the headline said. A number of popular comedians, including Chris Rock, have stopped performing on college campuses (see Caitlin Flanagan’s article in this month’s issue). Jerry Seinfeld and Bill Maher have publicly condemned the oversensitivity of college students, saying too many of them can’t take a joke.
American politicians are now eager to disown a failed criminal-justice system that’s left the U.S. with the largest incarcerated population in the world. But they've failed to reckon with history. Fifty years after Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s report “The Negro Family” tragically helped create this system, it's time to reclaim his original intent.
By his own lights, Daniel Patrick Moynihan, ambassador, senator, sociologist, and itinerant American intellectual, was the product of a broken home and a pathological family. He was born in 1927 in Tulsa, Oklahoma, but raised mostly in New York City. When Moynihan was 10 years old, his father, John, left the family, plunging it into poverty. Moynihan’s mother, Margaret, remarried, had another child, divorced, moved to Indiana to stay with relatives, then returned to New York, where she worked as a nurse. Moynihan’s childhood—a tangle of poverty, remarriage, relocation, and single motherhood—contrasted starkly with the idyllic American family life he would later extol.