Megan McArdle

Guest post by Jonathan H. Adler, a professor at the Case Western Reserve University School of Law and regular contributor to the Volokh Conspiracy

No environmental issue is more polarizing than global climate change.  Many on the left fear increases in atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gases threaten an environmental apocalypse while many on the right believe anthropogenic global warming is much ado about nothing and, at worst, a hoax.  Both sides pretend as if the climate policy debate is, first and foremost, about science, rather than policy. This is not so. There is substantial uncertainty about the scope, scale, and consequences of anthropogenic warming, and will be for some time, but this is not sufficient justification for ignoring global warming or pretending that climate change is not a serious problem.

Though my political leanings are most definitely right-of-center, and it would be convenient to believe otherwise, I believe there is sufficient evidence that global warming is a serious environmental concern.  I have worked on this issue for twenty years, including a decade at the Competitive Enterprise Institute where I edited this book. I believe human activities have contributed to increases in greenhouse concentrations, and these increases can be expected to produce a gradual increase in global mean temperatures. While substantial uncertainties remain as to the precise consequences of this increase and consequent temperature rise, there is reason to believe many of the effects will be quite negative.  Even if some parts of the world were to benefit from a modest temperature increase -- due to, say, a lengthened growing season -- others will almost certainly lose.

Many so-called skeptics note that environmental activists and some climate scientists exaggerate the likely effects of anthropogenic warming, distorting scientific findings and overstating the extent to which contemporary events (hurricanes, etc.) may be linked to human activity to date.  But the excesses of climate activists and bad behavior by politically active scientists (and the IPCC) do not, and should not, discredit the underlying science, or justify excoriating those who reach a different conclusion.  Indeed, most skeptics within the scientific community readily accept the basic science.  They contest the more extreme climate projections, but accept the basic scientific claims. Take, for example, Patrick Michaels of the Cato Institute.  In one of his recent books, Climate of Extremes: The Global Warming Science They Don't Want You to Know (co-authored with Robert Balling, another prominent "skeptic"), Michaels readily acknowledges that there is a warming trend and that human activity shares some of the blame.

The position espoused by Michaels, Balling and most (but not all) skeptics is that anthropogenic global warming is occurring, but it is more of a nuisance than a catastrophe.  Some even argue that the net effect of climate change on the world will be positive, due to increased growing seasons, less severe winters and the like.  Were I a utilitarian, and if I placed substantial faith in such cost-benefit studies, I might find these arguments convincing, but I'm not and I don't.  Even if these skeptics are correct that global warming will not be catastrophic and that the net effects in the near-to-medium term might be positive, there are still reasons to act.

Accepting, for the sake of argument, that the skeptics' assessment of the science is correct, global warming will produce effects that should be of concern.  Among other things, even a modest increase in global temperature can be expected to produce some degree of sea-level rise, with consequent negative effects on low-lying regions.  Michaels and Balling, for instance, have posited a "best guess" that sea levels will rise 5 to 11 inches over the next century.  Such an increase in sea levels is likely manageable in wealthy, developed nations, such as the United States.  Poorer nations in the developing world, however, will not be so able to adapt to such changes.  This is of particular concern because these effects will be most severe in those nations that are both least able to adapt and least responsible for contributing to the concentration of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere.

It is a well established principle in the Anglo-American legal tradition that one does not have the right to use one's own property in a manner that causes harm to one's neighbor.  There are common law cases gong back 400 years establishing this principle and international law has long embraced a similar norm.  As I argued at length in this paper, if we accept this principle, even non-catastrophic warming should be a serious concern, as even non-catastrophic warming will produce the sorts of consequences that have long been recognized as property rights violations, such as the flooding of the land of others.

My argument is that the same general principles that lead libertarians and conservatives to call for greater protection of property rights should lead them to call for greater attention to the most likely effects of climate change.  It is a well recognized principle of common law that if company A is flooding the land of person B, it is irrelevant whether company A generates lots of economic prosperity for the local community (including B).  A's action would still violate B's property rights, and B would be entitled to relief of some sort.  By the same token, if the land of a farmer in Bangladesh is flooded, due in measurable and provable part to human-induced climate change, why would he be any less entitled to redress than a farmer who has his land flooded by his neighbor's land-use changes? Property rights should not be sacrificed as part of some utilitarian calculus.  Libertarians readily accept this principle when government planners violate property rights in the name of economic development (see e.g., Kelo v. New London).  Yet they seem to abandon their commitment to property rights when it comes to global warming.

I readily recognize that there is, as yet, no international mechanism that adjudicate warming-based disputes, and I am quite sympathetic to those who believe any international entity capable of adjudicating such disputes would do more harm than good, but this does not negate the principle that global warming is, as best we can tell, likely to cause harms that should be addressed.  The question is how to do it.

Accepting that global warming is a serious problem does not require the embrace of federal regulation of greenhouse gases under the Clean Air Act, as currently undertaken by the EPA.  I have been quite critical of these efforts, which I believe are based on a misinterpretation of the Act by the Supreme Court.  CAA regulation will be extremely costly but will not produce emission reductions sufficient to stabilize atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gases.  The pork-laden cap-and-trade legislation passed by the House of Representatives would not be much better.  What then should we do?

If the effects of global warming are to be mitigated, it is necessary to stabilize atmospheric concentrations of greenhouse gases at a reasonable level.  The emission reductions necessary for this to be achieved are enormous, and far beyond the capability of existing technologies.  Just to reach a reasonable intermediate target the U.S. would have to reduce its emissions to levels not seen in 100 years, and reduce per capita emissions to levels not seen since Reconstruction.  And even this would not be enough, for if equivalent emission reductions are not made elsewhere, it would all be for naught.  As I explain in the first part of this paper, dramatic technological innovation is necessary to address the threat of climate change.

As Roger Pielke Jr. persuasively argues in his book The Climate Fix, nations will not decarbonize their economies until it is relatively cheap and easy to do so.  Therefore, those who are concerned about climate change, as I am, should be pursuing policies that will make it cheaper and easier to adopt low-carbon technologies.  What should these policies be?  I've suggested several.

First, the federal government should support technology inducement prizes to encourage the development of commercially viable low-carbon technologies.  For reasons I explain in this paper, such prizes are likely to yield better results at lower cost than traditional government R&D funding or regulatory mandates that seek to spur innovation. 

Second, the federal government should seek to identify and reduce barriers to the development and deployment of alternative technologies.  Whatever the economic merits of the Cape Wind project, it is ridiculous that it could take over a decade for a project such as this to go through the state and federal permitting processes.  This sort of regulatory environment discourages private investment in these technologies.

Third, I believe the United States should adopt a revenue-neutral carbon tax, much like that suggested by NASA's James Hansen.  Specifically, the federal government should impose a price on carbon that is fully rebated to taxpayers on a per capita basis.  This would, in effect, shift the incidence of federal taxes away from income and labor and onto energy consumption and offset some of the potential regressivity of a carbon tax.  For conservatives who have long supported shifting from an income tax to a sales or consumption tax, and oppose increasing the federal tax burden, this should be a no brainer.  If fully rebated, there is no need to worry about whether the government will put the resulting revenues to good use, but the tax would provide a significant incentive to reduce carbon energy use.  Further, a carbon tax would be more transparent and less vulnerable to rent-seeking and special interest mischief than equivalent cap-and-trade schemes and would also be easier to account for within the global trading system.  All this means a revenue-neutral carbon tax could be easier to enact than cap-and-trade.  And as for a broader theoretical justification, if the global atmosphere is a global commons owned by us all, why should not those who use this commons to dispose of their carbon emissions pay a user fee to compensate those who are affected.

Fourth and finally, it is important to recognize that some degree of warming is already hard-wired into the system.  This means that some degree of adaptation will be necessary.  Yet as above, recognizing the reality of global warming need not justify increased federal control over the private economy.  There are many market-oriented steps that can, and should, be taken to increase the country's ability to adapt to climate change including, as I've argued here and here, increased reliance upon water markets, particularly in the western United States where the effects of climate change on water supplies are likely to be most severe.

I recognize that a relatively brief post like this is unlikely to convince many people who have set positions on climate change.  I can already anticipate a comment thread filled with charges and counter-charges over the science.  But I hope this post has helped illustrate that the embrace of limited government principles need not entail the denial of environmental claims and that a concern for environmental protection need not lead to an ever increasing mound of prescriptive regulation.  And for those who wish to explore these arguments in further detail, there's lots more in the links I've provided throughout this post.

Guest post by Jonathan H. Adler, a professor at the Case Western Reserve University School of Law and a regular contributor to the Volokh Conspiracy.

It can be a bit lonely working on environmental issues from the "right" side of the political spectrum. Environmental academics and activists rarely have much patience (let alone sympathy) for principles that would limit the scope of government power and few conservatives or libertarians take environmental issues seriously. Some of my friends on the right seem to think that any environmental problem the market cannot magically solve must be a hoax. There's no doubt many environmental threats have been exaggerated, and the capacity of traditional regulatory institutions to address environmental concerns is often oversold, but serious environmental problems remain, and they should be addressed. Yet in the political sphere, those on the right either oppose every environmental measure with a reactionary fervor or they insist that whatever we do, we just have to make it cost a bit less. Neither is a satisfactory response. Blind opposition to the Sierra Club's agenda does not an environmental policy make. Nor is there a compelling case for always doing environmental initiatives on the cheap. Across the aisle, unfortunately, concerns for regulatory costs and limitations are viewed with equal suspicion.

As illustrated in the past three posts, much of my work explores the possibility and potential of a "pro-environment" policy agenda that is consistent with principles of limited government. This sort of approach is often characterized as "free market environmentalism" or "FME." This moniker may be a bit of a misnomer in that it emphasizes the "market" rather than the underlying set of institutions upon which markets - and sound conservation - both depend, but it certainly communicates the idea of trying to reconcile free enterprise and environmental protection through the recognition and protection of property rights in environmental resources.

This approach cuts against the grain of conventional environmental policy. Suggestions for dramatic reform of environmental laws is regularly characterized as "anti-environmental." Part of the problem is the standard fable of federal environmental regulation which recounts an overly romanticized view of the federal government's role in environmental protection. Based on this fable, many believe any effort to curtail federal regulatory authority, expand protection of property rights, or create greater state flexibility is an attack on environmental protection. But it ain't necessarily so.

According to the standard fable, post-war environmental conditions got inexorably worse until the nation's environmental consciousness awoke in the 1960s and demanded action. State and local governments were environmental laggards, according to this story, and only the federal government was capable of safeguarding ecological concerns. Events such as the 1969 fire on the Cuyahoga River, memorialized in Time magazine with this picture, are pointed to as support for this traditional account. This fire, which helped spur passage of the 1972 Clean Water Act, is constantly cited as evidence of how bad things were before the federal government got involved.

Yet the standard fable is just that, a fable - a fictionalized account with some truth, but fiction nonetheless. Let's start with the 1969 fire. There was a fire on the Cuyahoga River in June 1969, Time magazine did run a photo of a fire on the Cuyahoga, and the story of the fire did help spur passage of the CWA. But that's about where the truth ends. The fire was actually a minor event in Cleveland, largely because river fires on the Cuyahoga had once been common, as they had been on industrialized rivers throughout the United States, throughout the late 19th and early 20th centuries. But river fires were costly and posed serious risks to people and property, prompting local governments and private industry to act. The fire was not evidence of how bad things could get, but a reminder of how bad things had been.

Further, the June 1969 fire was far smaller and less significant than the fires of years past. Where there had been some major infernos on the Cuyahoga in years past, the 1969 fire was not among them. The fire burned for less than thirty minutes, and was out before the cameras arrived. (Here's the closest thing to a picture of that fire.) And that picture in Time magazine? It was not of the 1969 fire but of a fire from 1952. Apparently the editors of Time felt the need to dramatize their story of environmental ruin with a picture of a real fire, so they used the best picture they could find, even if it was not of the fire featured in their story. [For those interested, here is an extensive treatment of this history.]

The problems with the standard fable extend beyond the story of one river. While there were plenty of serious environmental problems in the 1960s, it's wrong to suggest everything was getting inexorably worse until the federal government got involved. Just as the problem of river fires had gotten better, not worse, prior to the 1969 Cuyahoga river, many environmental indicators were improving before the enactment of the major federal environmental laws. According the Environmental Protection Agency's first national water quality inventory in 1972, levels of some key pollutants had been declining significantly in the decade prior to enactment of the CWA. Ambient concentrations of some air pollutants, such as sulfur dioxide, had declined substantially before enactment of the federal Clean Air Act. Wetland loss rates plummeted before the extension of federal regulatory protection. And so on. Not every trend was positive, to be sure, but many were. In particular, those environmental concerns that were most obvious, understandable, and costly were improving -- largely due to a combination of state, local and private efforts - whereas emerging or less-well understood problems were not. In some cases federal regulation augmented and enhanced these preexisting efforts, but in other areas it imposed redundant or excessive controls that crowded out more locally tailored efforts. (For more on these points, see here and here.)

None of this means that all federal environmental regulation was unnecessary or unwise. There are some environmental problems that state and local governments are unwilling or unable to address on their own. But, contrary to the standard fable, federal environmental regulation was not always necessary or an improvement over the available alternatives. Among other things it had the effect of dampening innovation and experimentation in environmental protection, encouraging a "one-size-fits-all" approach to some environmental problems that too often becomes "one-size-fits-nobody." And if there is to be renewed experimentation and innovation in environmental policy, there needs to be a recognition that not all environmental policy decisions are best made in Washington, D.C. My own proposal for how to encourage greater environmental innovation can be found here.

In my view, greater state flexibility is a necessary, but not sufficient, for meaningful environmental reform. Environmental problems are hard, and the best solutions are not always apparent. Even where there is a broad consensus on the desirability of a particular policy approach, questions of implementation and design remain. Experimentation and innovation are necessary to discover how best to get these details right. I believe that greater reliance on property rights and market institutions will lead to more effective and equitable environmental protection, but until such approaches are tried, the claim is speculative. Only by trying new approaches can we learn which measures best succeed, or fail. I believe property-based approaches will emerge as the best (or least bad) approach to many environmental problems, but we will not know for sure until we try. And unless one is truly satisfied with current approaches to environmental protection (and few are), there is no reason not to let the experiments begin.

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Guest post by Jonathan H. Adler, a professor at the Case Western Reserve University School of Law and a regular contributor to the Volokh Conspiracy.

In my past two posts I've made a brief case for approaching environmental problems from a property rights perspective. In the first post I noted that Garrett Hardin identified private property (or something formally like it) as a solution to the "tragedy of the commons," and suggested that this sort of approach has been under-utilized in modern environmental policy. In a second post I discussed how the recognition of property rights in fisheries have, in fact, prevented the tragedy of the commons in marine fisheries. This is because transferable property rights, where properly defined and effectively enforced, align an owner's incentives with the value of the underlying resource. Fisheries are in trouble the world over, but property-based management regimes are a demonstrated way to prevent overfishing and fishery collapse.

The creative extension of property rights to ecological resources could help address many environmental problems. Particularly in the case of natural resources, property rights are a viable and demonstrated means of enhancing sustainability, particularly when compared to the available political alternatives. For those interested in more on this general approach, I have two articles which discuss this general approach at greater length: "Free & Green: A New Approach to Environmental Protection" and "Back to the Future of Conservation: Changing Perceptions of Property Rights and Environmental Protection." Work by others along these lines can be found on the website of the Property and Environment Research Center (PERC), a Bozeman-based think tank at which I am a senior fellow.

At the same time there is increasing evidence that a failure to respect and protect property rights undermines environmental stewardship, particularly on private land. This is important in a country like the United States in which a majority of land is privately owned. This problem is most evidence in the context of endangered species. A majority of those species listed as endangered or threatened rely upon private land for some or all of their habitat. If these species are not saved on private land, they may not be saved at all. Yet the Endangered Species Act, in effect, punishes private landowners for having maintained their land in a way that is beneficial for listed species. The end result, as empirical research has shown, is a decline in endangered species habitat on private land. Greater protection of property rights could actually enhance species conservation, as I explain here. (And for more on the Endangered Species Act in particular, see this book.)

Whatever the benefits of property rights for environmental protection, they are no panacea. Where property rights are a particularly effective way of aligning incentives for resource conservation, the application of property-rights approaches to pollution problems is more difficult. In principle, a commitment to property rights should entail a commitment to protecting people and their property from unprivileged or unconsented to invasions. Imposing waste or emissions on another's land should be recognized as a violation of their rights. In practice, however, this can be difficult to do. Whereas it may be relatively easy to adjudicate disputes between neighboring landowners, such as when one neighbor's activities generate odors or smoke that interfere with the other, it is more difficult to address those pollution problems that involve numerous parties on either side of the equation, particularly if one believes tort litigation, in the form of common law nuisance actions, is the best way to address pollution problems. I explore these problems in greater depth in this paper forthcoming in Critical Review.

While property-based environmental strategies have their limitations, they should not be overstated. Quite often, "markets" or private enterprise are blamed for environmental problems that have other roots. Nobel laureate Ronald Coase noted this phenomenon in his seminal essay, "The Problem of Social Cost"), when he commented on those who blame nuisances, environmental and otherwise, on market failure.

When they are prevented from sleeping at night by the roar of jet planes overhead (publicly authorized and perhaps publicly operated), are unable to think (or rest) in the day because of the noise and vibration from passing trains (publicly authorized and perhaps publicly operated), find it difficult to breathe because of the odour from a local sewage farm (publicly authorized and perhaps publicly operated) and are unable to escape because their driveways are blocked by a road obstruction (without any doubt, publicly devised), their nerves frayed and mental balance disturbed, they proceed to declaim about the disadvantages of private enterprise and the need for Government regulation.

Coase's immediate point is that problems blamed on private markets often have political roots, such as when the government authorizes or encourages environmentally destructive behavior. Pollution resulting from government subsidies for favored industries is a good example. More broadly, this passage suggests it is important to consider the underlying institutional arrangements when diagnosing environmental ills. Consider the tragedy of the commons scenario discussed before. Even if the relevant resource users are for-profit corporations, it would be a mistake to label a commons problem as "market failure" or evidence of the environmental rapaciousness of free enterprise. The reason for the tragedy of the commons has little to do with capitalism or corporate entities and everything to do with the underlying institutional arrangements, and the lack of property rights in particular.

Environmental problems are difficult, and typically defy easy solution. Though I believe in property-based solutions to many (if not most) environmental problems, the viability of such approaches should not be oversold. At the same time, the environmental limitations of property rights and markets should not be overstated, particularly in comparison to the viable regulatory alternatives. In environmental policy we rarely have the option of pursuing a clearly identifiable "ideal" approach. Rather, our choice comes from the collection of second-best (and third-best, fourth-best, etc.). The question is not which approach is perfect, but which approach is better (or not as bad) as the others.

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Guest post by Dr. Manhattan, a lawyer in New York City who represents, among others, clients in the investment management industry.

Paul Krugman argues in his current column that "Wall Streeters" are nothing but a bunch of spoiled brats throwing temper tantrums (who have contributed nothing of value to the economy, to boot). Krugman's view echoes those of other commentators such as Alec MacGillis' epic March cover story in the New Republic about how the hedge fund community loved Obama in 2008 and has since turned on him. However, MacGillis' story points to at least one very rational reason why the hedge fund and private equity communities have turned on Obama, which is at odds with the "spoiled brats" narrative.

Specifically, everyone knows how the Obama administration wants to tax "carried interest" received by general partners of hedge and private equity funds as ordinary income rather than as capital gains. On the one hand, that's a clear attack on the economic interests of the people running those funds (and making big donations with the proceeds); on the other, there's a clear argument that the carried interest should in fact be treated as compensation for services rather than capital gains. However, the Obama administration's proposals in fact went much further, as MacGillis summarizes:

The fault line that emerged was over the treatment of carried interest, the "hedge fund loophole," which allowed partners in investment firms to have their compensation--typically, a 20 percent cut of profits--taxed at the 15 percent capital gains rate instead of the 35 percent top rate for ordinary income.

Despite its name, the loophole benefited private-equity partners more than most hedge fund managers, who often trade on too short-term a basis to qualify for it. But hedge funds and private-equity firms alike bucked as it became clear that Congress was intent on closing the loophole in such a way that would hit all of them in a place that hurt: their profits, should they decide to sell stakes in their firm. Tax reformers had worried that, if the loophole was closed, managers would respond by selling shares in their firms to a third party. The money they gained from the sale--essentially, up-front payment for the firm's expected cut of investment gains--would be taxed at a lower rate as capital gains. In order to prevent one loophole being replaced by another, the emerging legislation would tax part of the sale of a stake in a firm at the much higher rate for ordinary income.

To many fund managers, this approach, which they dubbed the "enterprise value tax," was pure expropriation: They had built their firms from scratch and felt they deserved to have any sale taxed as capital gains. In his letter in 2010, Loeb declared the proposal an "arguably unconstitutional Bill of Attainder." The lobbyist who has represented hedge funds says: "The biggest thing that's infuriating to the hedge fund industry--the single biggest thing--is this enterprise-value tax. They feel they've been singled out. ... [It] is what they're metaphysically upset about. (Emphasis added.)

Hedge and private equity fund managers may be every bit the spoiled brats that MacGillis and Krugman say they are, but sometimes even spoiled brats are treated unfairly. The proposed "enterprise value tax" would in fact go far beyond putting carried interest on par with ordinary income; it would single out the sale of one kind of business for tax treatment not applicable to (as far as I know) any other kind of business at all. (I would like to know if there are other examples of business sales not being eligible for capital gains treatment.)

And how in the world is realizing capital gains by selling a portion of one's business a "loophole?" The proposed tax isn't aimed at some types of sale transactions which could be argued don't actually transfer the business interest; it would apply to any sale of any amount of a business which advises such funds (see page 139 of the proposed American Jobs Act).  Is selling stock after holding it for 1 year rather than 364 days a "loophole" because the sale then qualifies for long-term capital gain treatment?) If selling some or all of a business is a "loophole," then the term "loophole" has no meaning other than "something which enables people I don't like to reduce their taxes."

Substantively, this is no different than, say, if revulsion at Mark Zuckerberg inspired a proposed tax code change to render the sale of shares in technology company IPOs ineligible for capital gain treatment. I'd respectfully suggest that if such a change was ever mooted, the reaction from Silicon Valley and their fans would make the billionaire egotists excoriated by Krugman and MacGillis' piece seem like Buddhists by comparison.  Sometimes even paranoids have real enemies, and it's not surprising that they'd oppose people who have targeted them in such unique fashion. Even if they really are a bunch of spoiled brats.

Guest post by Dr. Manhattan, a lawyer in New York City who represents, among others, clients in the investment management industry.

The holy grail of regulation, in my opinion, is to harness the power of private sector competition to provide, and constantly improve on, the regulation's goals.

Can this be done for financial regulation? Hell yes. My own field of investment adviser regulation is ideal for this approach, if only the SEC would dare (they won't, for reasons listed below). Specifically, the SEC should approach investment adviser regulation - and I think other types of financial regulation - like NYC's restaurant inspections, including grades. Yes, really.  Specifically, regulated entities should be graded on specified relevant criteria, and their report cards should be publicly available (together with the regulator's comments, scrubbed for confidential information). And to make things even better, the regulated entities can be graded on a curve: wouldn't it be great if banks had to compete for one of the few "A"s available?

I can say that for investment adviser regulation, this approach would be multiple times better than the current regime, where: (a) the SEC spends so much time on paperwork and compliance with policies and procedures that they have trouble noticing major violations that the policies and procedures are designed to guard against (like, say, running the biggest Ponzi scheme in history); (b) every regulated entity gets a letter noting deficiencies (that's not a real exaggeration - well over 90% of advisers have deficiencies upon inspection), but those letters are not publicly available - so an investor has no way of knowing whether an adviser got nailed for peccadillos or just-short-of-enforcement violations; and (c) the regulators "get tough" by, in the infamous words of Hank Greenberg of AIG, turning foot faults into murder charges. A good grading system would force regulators to focus on the important stuff - like whether an adviser is stealing from its clients - and would provide more information to the public. As another side benefit, a grading system might force the regulators to update obsolete regulations more frequently (of which, at least on the investment adviser side, there are MANY).  I would have a lot of fun designing the grading system for investment advisers.

A similar format could at least improve on other financial regulatory regimes. (And to be clear, none of this would or should interfere with the regulators' ability to inspect for or take action against fraud or other violations.) At the very least, regulators should be thinking of ways to harness private-sector competition to further their goals rather than thinking of regulation solely as something forcibly hoisted on an unwilling audience who will invariably focus on circumvention, like sullen teenagers and a newly-applied curfew.  For investment advisers, the SEC will never contemplate anything like this, not least because the political blowback will be catastrophic the next time they give a passing grade to the next Bernie Madoff.  But it'd still be a good idea.

Guest post by Laura McKenna, former political science professor, blogger, and freelance writer. 

If anyone could be described as the poster child for public colleges, it would have to be me.

I'm a graduate of SUNY-Binghamton and CUNY-Graduate Center. My brother has a BA from the University of Virginia. My sister attended SUNY-Binghamton. My husband has degrees from Miami University, Cleveland State University, and CUNY-Graduate Center. His father also attended Miami University.  My husband and I collectively taught at four different public colleges. 

My parents were the first in their families to attend college and both attended public universities. My dad, the third generation to work in Chicago's steel mills, started at the University of Illinois at Navy Pier, which transformed him from a C student to an A student. Two years later, he earned a full scholarship to the University of Chicago. He later became a professor and taught at City College of New York for 35 years. 

Over her Italian father's protests, my mother went to Hunter College back when it was a woman's college. She worked two jobs to pay her tuition. 

The affordable tuition and excellent education at these state schools were critical for the success of my family, as well as millions of working class and middle class Americans. 

So, what's the state of state colleges today? Are public colleges still taking care of their core constituency? 

Last week's New York Times article on student loan debt showed that students from state colleges had lower debt burdens than private college students. Tuition was half the price of private schools. (Please play with the Times' interactive graph.) That's good news. 

The Times also reports that all public colleges have been getting more selective, as students are priced out of private schools.

Across the country, the most selective public colleges have been growing more so for decades, with many of them seeing a notable shift in the past few years. The share of entering freshmen who were in the top 10 percent of their high school classes rose to 73 percent last fall from 69 percent in 2007 at the University of Texas at Austin, to 57 percent from 49 percent at Binghamton University and to 80 percent from 76 percent at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, to name a few.

So, smart students are deciding to forgo expensive private school tuition and limiting their student loan burden. That's good news, too. 

The bad news is that a growing number of faculty at state or public colleges are adjunct instructors. Adjuncts are temporary faculty members who teach classes for low pay, no benefits. They do not have the protections of tenure. They are often not unionized. 1 million of the 1.5 million people teaching in American colleges are adjuncts. The number of adjunct faculty has increased dramatically over time. LinkedIn reports that it is the fastest growing job description. 

Doing some back of the envelope computations using data from the Chronicle of Higher Education, I found some depressing news about my alma mater and other public colleges. At SUNY Binghamton, of the 812 faculty, 383 are adjuncts. That's 47 percent of their total faculty.  At Penn State, of their 3,187 full time faculty, 1,428 are not tenured or on tenure track positions. In other words, 49 percent of their faculty do not have job security, equal pay, or benefits. If you attend University of Tennessee at Knoxville, you are highly likely to be taught by a graduate assistant. Of, their 4,235 teachers, only 1,295 are tenured or tenure-track professor. 2,062 of their teachers are graduate assistants. 

In a report released last year, 56 percent of all classes at community colleges in Pennsylvania were taught by adjunct or non-tenure track professors. They receive $2,500 per class. If the adjuncts taught a staggering five classes per semester, their salary would be $25,000 per year. They often receive no benefits. 

All these adjuncts are bad news for undergraduates at the public colleges. Many adjuncts are excellent teachers, but their temporary status and their exclusion from faculty meetings means that students can't rely on them for advice on course selection. It's difficult to develop relationships with faculty that may not have their own offices or might teach at multiple schools. It's also hard to be an excellent professor when you're poor and your career is unstable. 

State colleges have been forced to rely on non-tenure track faculty for several reasons. One factor has been the economic downturn, which has caused states to cutback on their support of higher education. State appropriations for colleges fell by 7.6 percent in 2011-12, the largest annual decline in at least five decades. With a decrease in revenue, an obvious way to save money is to hire cheap labor. At $2,500 per class, adjuncts are a bargain. 

Colleges have also been forced to rely on adjuncts as they push their tenured faculty to concentrate on research and graduate education. 

With tuition at private colleges in the $40,000 range, we're highly likely to be a third generation public school family. In a few years, I will be taking my son to tour Penn State and SUNY-Binghamton. I hope that in that time, I will see a reverse of some of these "bad news" trends. I hope that tenured faculty will return to the undergraduate classrooms and that all faculty members will be rewarded for excellence in the classroom.  

Guest post by Jonathan H. Adler, a professor at the Case Western Reserve University School of Law and regular contributor to the Volokh Conspiracy.

Fisheries continue to be among the best examples of the tragedy of the commons in action. As Garrett Hardin himself noted in his 1968 essay, "the oceans of the world continue to suffer" from the dynamic of the commons. Alas, little has changed. Ocean fisheries remain in trouble, as study after study reveals. Most fisheries around the globe are fully or over-exploited, and a substantial number have already faced collapse. The problem with fisheries management runs deep. 

It would be nice to think this is a problem confined to poor or developing countries, but it's not. Dozens of fish stocks in the United States remain overfished, despite herculean efforts to impose meaningful fishery regulations, from total catch limits to restrictions on fishing gear other inputs. Such measures try to limit access, but they do not alter the fundamental incentives of the commons. Each participant in the fishery retains every incentive to get what he or she can, even at the expense of the whole. In many fisheries, we see this manifested in a destructive and wasteful "race to catch," as each boat tries to get what it can before the fishery reaches its catch limit and closes. The resulting practices may make for good reality television, but they don't foster sound ecological stewardship. Traditional regulatory strategies do little to encourage concern among resource users for the long-term health of the resource and pit resource users against conservation interests. 

It does not have to be this way. Even before Hardin wrote his essay fishery economists had diagnosed the problem and explained how property rights in fisheries could solve the problem. Specifically by recognizing property rights in a percentage of the catch for a given species (or, in some cases, by recognizing rights in fishing territories), the "race to catch" could be eliminated and fishing crews could be given an incentive to husband the resource. The creation of property rights in the underlying resource aligns the incentives of those who work in the fishery with the health of the fishery. As owners of a share in the catch year-after-year, the fishers have a stake in ensuring there are more fish tomorrow than there are today. 

The benefits of such a system are not merely theoretical. They have now been confirmed through extensive empirical research. A recent study in Science that looked at over 11,000 fisheries over a fifty year period found clear evidence that the adoption of property-based management regimes, often called "catch shares" or ITQs, prevents fishery collapse. (More here.) This is only the latest piece of evidence supporting the use of property institutions for fishery conservation. As Hardin predicted, the institution of property rights averts the tragedy of the commons. 

There are many reasons for this. The creation of property rights in an ecological resource not only creates incentives for greater resource stewardship, to conserve the underlying value of the resource today and into the future. It also gives those who rely upon the resource a stake in the broader set of institutions that govern the resource. 

Under traditional fishery management, those who fish and those who regulate are typically at odds. Fishermen lobby for less restrictive catch limits so they may catch more today, out of fear the fishery may be more constrained tomorrow. Interestingly enough, the creation of property rights in the fishery catch encourages fishermen to take the opposite tack. More precautionary catch limits actually enhance the value of their catch shares, so they seek more protective policies. In some cases, as has been observed in New Zealand, fishery share owners themselves effectively take over the management of the stock, enforcing catch shares and limits, policing restrictions on by-catch, and funding the research necessary to ensure the fishery maintains its maximum sustainable yield over time. 

The move toward property rights appears to have had positive social benefits as well. Consider the experience of the popular reality show "The Deadliest Catch," which chronicles the efforts of several boats in the Alaskan King Crab fishery in the Bering Sea. The title for the show derives from the fact that Alaskan king crab fishing is one of the deadliest jobs around - or at least it used to be. 

After the first season, catch shares were adopted in the Alaskan king crab fishery, eliminating the race-to-fish that had made for such dramatic television, but a poorly run fishery. Among other things, this caused a significant increase in the safety of the fishery. As vessels no longer had to race to fish, there was now less of an incentive to cut corners and risk life and limb. They've also encouraged the boats to pay more attention to the ecological conditions of the waters in which they operate. As one of the captains explained in WSJ op-ed: 

Now we have a stake in protecting crab populations for the future. Because we aren't in such a race against the clock, we're able to get more young and female crabs we don't keep back into the ocean unharmed. When we find an area has too many juvenile crabs, there's time to go somewhere else instead. 

What made for better ecological management may not have made for good TV. After the second season the producers looked for new ways to up the excitement level in the absence of a race to catch. But it was good for those who work in the fishery, and certainly good for sustainability. 

The recognition of property rights in marine resources can also make it easier to adopt additional conservation measures. For instance, the adoption of catch-shares can reduce the incremental burden from the imposition of by-catch limits or the creation of marine reserves (though there are property-based ways to pursue these goals as well). A shift to catch-shares would have fiscal benefits as well. 

The most prominent objections to property-based fishery management are not ecological, but social and economic. Some fear the distributional consequences of recognizing transferable rights in a fishery or worry about the possible effect on local communities, particularly if fishery shares are bought out by larger companies. Such concerns are legitimate, but are best addressed directly. They should not be an excuse for leaving unsustainable fishery management regimes in place. 

 The theoretical and empirical case for property-based fishery management has been made. If we care about the health of marine resources, there is no reason not to move in this direction. Whether or not property rights in ecological resources are the solution to every environmental problem, they are in the case of fisheries.

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Guest post by Jonathan H. Adler, a professor at the Case Western Reserve University School of Law and regular contributor to the Volokh Conspiracy.

Thanks to Megan for inviting me to spend some time over here.  As she mentioned, much of my work focuses on environmental law and policy. I also do a fair amount on "administrative law" more generally (aka the law governing administrative and regulatory process), structural constitutional law (aka federalism and separation of powers), and the Supreme Court. Much of my academic work can be found on my SSRN page. While this first post will discuss some environmental issues, I expect to touch on these other subjects as well, particularly since The Atlantic has given me some of the credit (blame?) for marshaling legal arguments against the constitutionality of the individual mandate.

Much of my environmental work cuts against the traditional pro-regulatory grain of contemporary environmental law and policy. There have been significant environmental gains in many areas over the past fifty years, and traditional regulatory strategies deserve some of the credit, but modern environmental regulation is hardly a model of efficient governmental intervention. What, then, should we do differently? To answer this question it's important to think first about the nature of environmental problems, as our diagnosis of the problems will influence our choice of remedy.

The way we think about environmental concerns was heavily influenced by Garrett Hardin's seminal 1968 essay on "The Tragedy of the Commons." In this essay, Hardin described the fate of a common pasture, unowned and available to all. As Hardin explained, in such a situation it is in each herder's self-interest to maximize his use of the commons at the expense of the community at large. Each herder captures all of the benefit from adding one more animal to his herd. Yet the costs of overgrazing the pasture are distributed among every user of the pasture. And when all of the herders respond to these incentives, the pasture is overgrazed -- hence the tragedy. As Hardin explained it, the pursuit of self-interest in an open-access commons leads to ruin. Without controls on access and use of the underlying resource, the tragedy of the commons is inevitable. 

Hardin's essay is tremendously important, not so much because he discovered the commons problem -- others had documented this dynamic before -- but because he popularized a useful way of thinking about many environmental problems. As Hardin explained, the metaphor of the commons can be applied to virtually any environmental resource. Instead of a pasture we could talk of a herd of animals, a fishery, a lake or even an airshed. In each case, the underlying economic dynamic is the same, and if access and use are not limited in some fashion, over-use is inevitable as demand grows. [A quick caveat: What Hardin called the "commons," is more properly described as an open-access commons, as there are some resources that are owned or managed in common that do not suffer the tragedy because they are subject to community management of some form or other, but the central point stands.]

Hardin's diagnosis is often identified as a rationale for prescriptive regulation Hardin famously termed "mutual coercion, mutually agreed upon." This was his way of describing those regulations we adopt to keep a common resource of any sort from befalling the fate of an open-access commons, and it's largely the path we've followed in environmental policy for the past fifty years.

Administrative regulations have produced some gains, but also many failings. Our air and water are cleaner today than forty years ago -- and substantially so -- but many ecological resources are as threatened now as they ever were. Federal environmental regulation was not the savior many think, and many environmental regulations actually get in the way of further progress. The imposition of land-use controls under the Endangered Species Act, for example, discourages effective conservation on private land. 

One thing that Hardin overlooked is that the political process often replicates the same economic dynamic that encourages the tragedy of the commons -- a dynamic fostered by the ability to capture concentrated benefits while dispersing the costs. Like the herder who has an incentive to put out yet one more animal to graze, each interest group has every incentive to seek special benefits through the political process, while dispersing the costs of providing those benefits to the public at large. Just as no herder has adequate incentive to withhold from grazing one more animal, no interest group has adequate incentive to forego its turn to obtain concentrated benefits at public expense. No interest group has adequate incentive to put the interests of the whole ahead of the interests of the few. The logic of collective action discourages investments in sound public policy just as it discourages investments in sound ecological stewardship. This, in addition to the pervasiveness of special-interest rent seeking, explains many of the failings of centralized regulation. So despite the environmental gains of the past half-century, real challenges remain, and the tragedy of the commons is still with us.

Administrative regulation has been the dominant tool in environmental policy over the past half-century, but it was not the only prescription Hardin offered. What many forget is Hardin actually offered two prescriptions for preventing the tragedy of the commons. "Mutual coercion, mutually agreed upon" was one approach; but Hardin had another. In the alternative, Hardin suggested that greater reliance on property rights was a proven way to prevent the tragedy of the commons. As he explained, the tragedy of the commons "is averted by private property or something formally like it." Indeed, Hardin suggested this was one of the primary functions of property in land. 

As Hardin recognized, where property rights are well-defined and secure, the tragedy of the commons is less likely for each owner has ample incentive to act as a steward, caring for the underlying resource and preventing its overuse, both for themselves, and others who may value the underlying resource. In this way, the institution of property rights "deters us from exhausting the positive resources of the earth."

Hardin was not altogether sanguine about the potential for property rights to avert the tragedy of the commons in many areas because he feared it would be too difficult to define and defend property rights in threatened ecological resources, particularly against the threat of pollution. It's one thing to post and fence private land. Quite another to demarcate property rights in air or water. Yet there is far greater potential here than is commonly realized. Enhanced technologies and greater understanding of ecological conditions make it possible to conceive or property rights today where once they were the stuff of ecological fantasy.   

Pursuing the identification and expansion of property rights in ecological resources will be difficult, but the potential benefits are large. We understand the importance of property rights for economic prosperity, but we are also beginning to understand the importance of property rights for ecological sustainability. What we're learning is that where property-based institutions can be adapted to ecological resources more sustainable practices tend to result (and in my next post I'll provide a concrete example).

The importance of property rights for environmental conservation is not a new idea. It lay at the core of the early American conservation movement. After all, it was the institution of property rights that enabled the first Audubon Societies to post private reserves to protect birds from hunters who sought to collect their feathers for women's hats. It was the institution of property rights that enabled Rosalie Edge to turn Hawk Mountain from a hunting ground into a bird sanctuary. It is the institution of property rights that allows land trusts large and small, from the American Prairie Foundation to the Western Reserve Land Conservancy to protect precious places. The need to day is to keep moving beyond property in land and adopt property institutions to a wider array of ecological resources so that property institutions can have the chance to succeed in those areas where mutual coercion, mutually agreed upon has failed.

Guest post by Dr. Manhattan, a lawyer in New York City who represents, among others, clients in the investment management industry.

Thanks to Megan for the kind introduction. Anyone interested in additional biographical information can access that, along with my prior Atlantic posts, here. (My old blog is defunct, but Internet archeologists can access it here.)

If given the opportunity to pick one financial regulatory reform, I'd pick one which allowed us to pay regulators lots and lots of money, competitive with the worst excesses of the private sector if need be -- up to and including signing them up for the Porsche-of-the-Month Club. (Another way of saying the foregoing is that, notwithstanding all the attention paid to income inequality, we need much, much more if it in the public sector.) However, other people have made the same argument and it doesn't seem to have helped much. So maybe it's time to start thinking of some other exceedingly modest proposals which haven't gotten as much play: Some impractical ideas which nonetheless might point us towards actions which -- with apologies to Lena Dunham -- may not be "the solution to the problem, but a solution to a problem."

Here's my first such idea:

Abolish Mortgage-Backed Securities (and Offspring)

CDOs and credit default swaps don't kill financial systems, mortgages kill financial systems.

There has been altogether too much opproprium directed at CDOs, credit default swaps and other structuring techniques that spread financial contagion, and not enough directed at the underlying collateral. The record seems to be, however, that Dick Pratt was correct when he called the mortgage "the neutron bomb of financial products."

Don't believe it? Ask the foremost experts in credit derivatives, such as:

1) The inventors of credit default swaps and CDOs at JPMorgan: As Gillian Tett describes in Fool's Gold, while they truly believed in the CDO structure, they did not believe that the credit risk could be accurately measured on underlying mortgages. Other banks felt...differently, and this classic Felix Salmon post is the best synopsis of what happened.

2)  The long-time heads of AIG Financial Products: no that was not a typo. For most of the history of AIG FP, they absolutely refused to enter into any transactions, CDOs included, backed by real estate. It is worth excerpting the following from Roddy Boyd's definitive Fatal Risk, referring to Joe Cassano's predecessor as head of AIG FP:

[A]nything mortgage related left [Tom Savage] cold. He took a literal view of the issue: any security backed by a house or building was verboten. His colleagues saw it as a quirk of his personality...It was anything but that. As a groundbreaking modeler in the mortgage departments at First Boston and Drexel, he had come to see that all of mortgage trading was just a way to make money until the next unanticipated blow up. Time after time, the same thing happened: rates changed and entire trading desks, whole fixed income divisions were blown out of the water because of one or two mortgage trading positions. Savage had a litany of reasons why: hedges -- if they were even available -- always underperformed because the securities were too leveraged to interest rates. In turn, brokers and hedge funds, trying to squeeze every last dime of profit out of a trade, used too much leverage in positioning the bonds, so when the market reversed, they were always forced to sell in a panic.

Savage saw his former specialty, modeling mortgages, as little more than folly. The models the bank touted assumed that rates would move in sequential, orderly patterns and that market prices would follow. The opposite happened, of course, with panic, greed and liquidity flowing into or out of the market at a second's notice. Somehow those inputs never seemed to make it into the models. 

Similarly, the founder of AIG FP, Howard Sosin, refused to allow FP to invest in anything mortgage-related, believing that they would always be subject to risks they could neither analyze nor quantify. 

And the subsequent history of AIG FP demonstrates that the problem was the underlying collateral, not the structure: AIG FP's portfolio of credit default swaps on corporate and bank debt, despite always being much larger than its portfolio of swaps on "asset-backed" CDOs, did not cause the losses which destroyed the company in 2008: those were all concentrated in the smaller, latter portfolio (together, that is, with the losses in AIG's securities lending program, which is a similar story for another day).

Perhaps the best argument in favor of getting rid of MBS entirely is that -- as is happening with the regulatory dispute over money market funds -- the market is already doing the job.  As this Sober Look post describes in great detail, other securitizations are getting done and performing just fine: auto loans, credit-card receivables, etc. -- but home equity-based securitizations are barely visible.

(Yes, killing MBS will likely kill the 30-year fixed-rate mortgage with no prepayment penalty, which, in the words of Raj Date, "does not flourish in the state of nature."  And right now very few people can get one of those anyway, which is not a coincidence.)

In short, if we are to focus our regulatory ire on instruments which are per se dangerous, CDOs and credit default swaps are not the place to look: start with the humble mortgage-backed security and its offspring.

Guest post by Laura McKenna, former political science writer, blogger, and freelance writer. 

In yesterday's New York Times, David Kirp, a public policy professor from Berkeley, explains that school integration made a large, long term impact on African-American students.

The experience of an integrated education made all the difference in the lives of black children -- and in the lives of their children as well. These economists' studies consistently conclude that African-American students who attended integrated schools fared better academically than those left behind in segregated schools. They were more likely to graduate from high school and attend and graduate from college; and, the longer they spent attending integrated schools, the better they did. What's more, the fear that white children would suffer, voiced by opponents of integration, proved groundless. Between 1970 and 1990, the black-white gap in educational attainment shrank -- not because white youngsters did worse but because black youngsters did better.

Not only were they more successful in school, they were more successful in life as well. A 2011 study by the Berkeley public policy professor Rucker C. Johnson concludes that black youths who spent five years in desegregated schools have earned 25 percent more than those who never had that opportunity. Now in their 30s and 40s, they're also healthier -- the equivalent of being seven years younger.  

Kirp calls for a return to integration. "If we're serious about improving educational opportunities, we need to revisit the abandoned policy of school integration."

I haven't seen those studies. I would like to see how they controlled for certain factors. Was there something different about the parents of African-American children who got their kids into those integrated schools? Did white students maintain their education advantage, because their parents put them in private schools or relocated to another town? Still, I'm pretty sure that their findings are accurate. Many other studies have shown the importance of peer group influences and the impact of wealth of a community on education outcomes. 

Kirp is right in some ways. Creating larger, more diverse schools would definitely improve outcomes of more children. However, he has little sympathy or understanding for the forces that stymie the efforts of reformers.  

There's no way to go back to busing or 70s integration methods. Racism might be a factor, but the biggest problem is self-interest. People worry that integration will harm their kids and their property values. 

It's a natural parental drive to provide your kids with the best things in life -- a nice home, good food and an excellent education, even if it comes at the expense of others or it flies in the face of political ideology. Our last two Democratic presidents sent their children to private schools, while at the same time having lunch with the teachers' unions. Parents want their kids in the Gifted and Talented Programs and don't want the special education kids to suck up too many resources. 

While there's little evidence that a diverse student body in terms of income, ethnicity, or cognitive abilities creates a worse learning environment for the most privileged kids, any threat to a child drives a parent insane. Protecting one's child is a natural instinct, and school reformers must deal with this instinct with compassion. 

When our public schools were gerry rigged a hundred years ago, few would have predicted the value ofone's home would be so tied to school quality. If my house was hoisted by a crane and dropped in Newark, NJ, the value of the home would plummet. If an influx of new kids cause overall test scores to drop, my property value would most likely drop, too. For most people in this country, their home is their biggest investment. A loss of property value makes even the most well meaning individuals to hyper-ventilate and worry about eating cat food during their Golden Years.

This natural instinct to protect property and children has undone more than integration efforts. School vouchers proposals were shot down in state after state in part because of the strength of the teachers unions, but also because there was huge resistance from suburban voters to open their schools to other children. Republicans, who ideologically support vouchers, voted it down in state legislatures, because their suburban constituents did not want urban kids using a voucher to attend their schools. 

So, how do we create more diverse schools without stepping on the natural instinct to protect children and property?  Baby steps and compassion.

Thanks to our terrific stable of outgoing guest bloggers--though they're not all leaving you; Scott Winship decided he wasn't done talking, so he'll be staying over.

Guest post by Jim Manzi, founder and Chairman of Applied Predictive Technologies, and the author of Uncontrolled: The Surprising Payoff of Trial-and-Error for Business, Politics and Society.

A commenter to one of Gabriel's posts made the point that it's hard for Megan's regular readers to have a sense of where each of the guest posters is coming from in general, and therefore how to see our various posts in context. This makes sense to me

For my final guest post, I'll try to provide context. Rather than going through some long framework, however, I'll give a very quick summary, and then tell a story that I hope illustrates what I'm trying to say.

In his review of my book at The New Republic, Eric Posner made a great overarching point:

The book is less interested in the RFT than in the limits of empirical knowledge. Given these limits, what attitude should we take toward government?

Guest post by Jim Manzi, founder and Chairman of Applied Predictive Technologies, and the author of Uncontrolled: The Surprising Payoff of Trial-and-Error for Business, Politics and Society.

I often criticize social scientists for making overly-aggressive claims for understanding causality in complex systems by building regression and other pattern-finding models. This is not evidence of some unique weakness of social scientists The same thing happens in business all the time, but business analyses tend not to be published for obvious reasons. A good example of one that has been published is in the current Harvard Business Review. This matters a lot, because HBR holds a unique position as the most important serious business publication in America.

Anne Marie Knott, professor of strategy at Washington University's Olin Business School, has written an article called "The Trillion-Dollar R&D Fix." The article proposes a new measurement of R&D effectiveness: RQ. In her words, RQ is a measure of "how effective your company is at R&D."

What is so striking to me about this article is how unvarnished Knott is in claiming that she has discovered a tool to do exactly what I say is so hard: make useful, reliable and non-obvious predictions for the effect of interventions in social systems. She writes that "Using standard regression analysis, the calculation tells us in a very precise way how productive each of the inputs is in generating output. It tells us, for instance, how much a 1% increase in R&D spending would increase a firm's revenue." Knott asserts that RQ allows the management if a company "to see how changes in your R&D expenditure affect the bottom line and, most important, your company's market value." She even names names: providing a table of what she thinks each of the top 20 public corporations in America should have spent on R&D, and how much more each would be worth if they followed her recommendations.

For example, Knott claims that she knows that Apple would have maximized its market value by spending $9.5 billion on R&D in 2010 They actually spent $1.8 billion. That's a fairly incredible claim. She thinks that what is generally conceded to be a management team that is pretty savvy about innovation underspent on R&D by more than 400 percent -- Apple ought to have quintupled its R&D spending in 2010. As another example, Knott claims that Dow Chemical could have roughly doubled its total market capitalization by increasing its R&D spending by 10 percent. That's a lot of money for them to leave on the table. And a very easy fix.

Knott claims that if just the top 20 American corporations had followed her recommendations, they would have collectively increased their market capitalization by more than $1 trillion. Consider this assertion for a moment The current total market capitalization of the top 20 U.S. public companies is a little over $4 trillion. Knott claims that she has outsmarted the entire system of management teams, investors, equity analysts, hedge funds, large-scale private equity firms and everyone else who is trying to change management practices to increase share price, and knows how to increase the total value of the most-closely followed companies in the world by almost 25 percent....by building a regression model using publicly-available data.

If you could rely on Knott's predictions, you could raise capital, buy these companies, change R&D spending in line with her model, and then sell them again at an enormous profit. You could start with Dow, because you know how to double its share price.

Maybe Knott has discovered an incredible, remediable market inefficiency, and somebody is about to get very, very rich. Or maybe there's a problem with her model.

The HBR article describes the calculation of RQ conceptually, and references a journal article (ungated) in which Knott describes the mechanics of it. In it, effectiveness in managing R&D is explicitly analogized to IQ, and refers to what is normally termed among businesspeople a competence for managing the R&D function. Knott contrasts her theory with an existing body of research on the topic:

Theories of innovation typically assume that firm R&D behavior is endogenously determined by industry conditions. If all firms in an industry share these conditions, and behave optimally then in equilibrium all firms should have identical R&D investment. Accordingly increases in R&D beyond the optimum should decrease market value. However the empirical record consistently demonstrates the opposite. Firms with higher R&D investment have higher market value.

We proposed that the inconsistency between theory and empirics stems from the assumption of homogenous firms. If instead firms have heterogeneous R&D elasticities (IQ), then a) the optimal levels of investment will differ across firms (firms with higher IQ invest more), and b) the market value per dollar of investment will differ across firms (firms with higher IQ have higher value per R&D dollar). This gives the empirical finding of increasing market value for increased R&D spending theoretical grounding: It is not that investing more in R&D increases market value, it is that higher IQ yields both higher returns (and market value) and therefore stimulates greater investment.

I'm sure she's correct that there are a lot of academic analyses that assume all firms have equal competence in R&D. Such studies may have some utility for some purposes. But the idea that competence in research management varies across firms is a belief that is universally held among relevant senior executives. I mean this literally. I doubt you could find three COO / CEO level executives among all large public U.S. companies who spend significant amounts on research that disagree.

So the non-obvious claim is that she has built a model which quantifies this effect with sufficient precision to reliably change the decision about how large R&D budgets ought to be, as compared to current management practices.

Knott uses a dataset of annual data for 610 publicly-traded American companies from 1981 - 2006. The primary data elements by company are annual numbers for: market value, revenues, Property, Plant and Equipment (PPE), number of employees, advertising spending, and R&D spending. (This was merged with data on patents by company in order to build a separate model.). From this primary data, Knott builds a time-series regression equation to estimate the causal effects of R&D spending.

The problems with this should be apparent.

I'm confident that exactly the effect Knott describes is real. Some companies are better at managing research, and they will spend more, all else equal, and create greater returns for it.

But causality also runs in the opposite direction. For example, when management teams rationally foresee a good year coming, they tend to relax spending discipline. So we will see R&D spending go up in year X, and profits rising in year X+1. The expectation of future profits cause R&D spending to rise today This effect is unobserved in Knott's model, because we have no data on executive anticipations. Some other variables will proxy for it, but the correlation between the actual unobserved variable and the proxy won't be close to 1.

Further, there are many confounding variables. For example, different firms that are called competitors will actually face different landscapes of potential R&D opportunities, independent of R&D effectiveness. IBM and HP, as examples, have different mixes of end-use markets, different customer bases, different installed technologies and so on that means that each is looking at a different list of potential relevant projects when deciding what to fund. This changes over time. Who were Apple's competitors in 1995? 2000? 2010? Who will be their competitors in 2015? This is referenced conceptually in Knott's paper, but how do we segregate this effect from RQ and everything else when the model has no data on it.

As another, firms have different "general management IQs" to use Knott's language. We could be cute and call this MQ. This will lead some firms to modify their RQ over time, and to better perceive potential opportunities than others, independent of effectiveness in going after them. This will also have some consistency and some changes over time, and the model is blind to it.

And yet further, there are also relevant interactions between each of these example variables. For example, higher MQ management teams will tend, all else equal, to get firms into a position with a better portfolio of possible R&D investments, but will also tend to lead them to exert more consistent cost discipline in good and bad years. These will tend to be persistent effects, but high MQ teams will also likely react better to changing external circumstances. MQ will correlate with RQ, but the correlation will be materially greater than 0 and materially below 1.

Knott's model considers none of this. I have written extensively, and more technically, here at The Atlantic about why attempts to use methods like those Knott employs (e.g., two-step Instrumental Variable models), to try to isolate the causal impact of variable X on corporate performance can't perform the magic of somehow overcoming the problem of never including so much of the relevant data. I summarized the conclusion as:

There's just no way out of the problem that what makes companies do well or badly is very, very complicated, and therefore isolating the impact of any one variable by lining up some descriptors for a few hundred companies and looking for patterns is like trying to grab liquid mercury.

Think of what Knott's advice means in practice. We would sit down with Apple's management team and say that they should quintuple their R&D spend. To avoid getting laughed out of the room, we would actually say "OK, we think there is high unexploited opportunity for R&D spend, so bump it up 10 percent." What this boils down to is some combination of taking the prioritized list of projects that have been considered, and move the "green light" line down further, and of rethinking our prioritization scheme somewhat, so as to increase spend by 10 percent. Presumably, afterward we would want to go back and try to evaluate whether these extra projects we therefore funded actually created market value. This is usually tricky, and requires judgment, but for many projects, we can evaluate the process cost reductions, or number of units the new product line sold at what margins, or whatever.

But all good executive teams do this already. They constantly attempt to evaluate how wide the choke on the R&D budget ought to be set by looking at actual performance after the fact.

If the advice is "in general, companies ought to try out getting a little looser with the R&D budget and see how it works." Fair enough, but nothing new. If the advice is "set your R&D budget each yer using this formula, and don't draw any subsequent conclusions based on the actual performance of the extra projects you funded," then it's not really very useful.

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Guest Post by Gabriel Rossman-- Professor Rossman is a sociologist at UCLA. His work applies economic sociology to media industries. He blogs at Code and Culture and is the author of Climbing the Charts

In the course of a discussion about Mormons, a friend pointed me to a religious testimony offered by Clayton Christensen (who is best known for his work on disruptive innovation). In his testimony, Christensen describes his belief in the Book of Mormon through a religious epiphany reminiscent of St. Augustine's "tolle lege" experience. However this is in the second half of the essay, the first half being devoted to a description of the strength of the LDS community and an argument that this social capital is directly related to the lay priesthood ecclesiastical structure of LDS. One story from this part of the testimonial struck me in particular:

[O]ur family had out-grown our small home, so we found a larger one and put the word out that we would appreciate any help in loading and unloading our rented moving truck. Among those who showed up that morning was Mitt Romney, now the governor of Massachusetts, who had just completed his unsuccessful campaign for the U.S. Senate in Massachusetts. Mitt had a broken collarbone, but for two hours traipsed between our home and the truck, carrying out whatever he could manage with his one good arm.

From a purely utilitarian perspective this is ridiculous. You have a man with a vast fortune and a (temporary) physical impairment. It would be an obvious gain from trade if rather than providing his hobbled physical labor, Romney were instead to give Christensen $100 and tell him to hire a day laborer. Of course if it happened like that the story would be the plot to an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm with the upshot that Larry David is an obtuse misanthrope, not a religious testimonial with the upshot that Mormons have a strong community. Indeed this story is in the middle of a paragraph which begins and ends by talking about how as a general matter Mormons are eager to help one another and is part of a broader argument about how Mormons provide both mundane and ecclesiastical services to one another directly rather than through professionals. In the context of the essay, the practical value of the impaired labor that Romney provided is clearly secondary to the affirmation of moral community implied by his willingness to provide it. In this sense, that Romney was injured makes his contribution more significant, not less, which is why Christensen chose to draw attention to it.

Similarly, consider Joel Waldfogel's AER article "The Deadweight Loss of Christmas" (which he later adapted into Scroogenomics). The article basically demonstrates that people don't especially like the gifts grandma gives them for Christmas. I like Waldfogel a lot* and think this article makes a real contribution in showing how gifts are a deadweight loss when viewed from the perspective of market pricing. However treating this as a problem and normatively asserting that people are irrational to give gifts is like an astronomer chastising a comet for not having the right orbit. (This is not an uncommon issue with economists). The conclusion suggests the policy proposal that replacing in-kind welfare benefits with cash transfers would increase the poor's utility. (Again, not unheard of). In related news, if my grandmother had balls she'd be my grandfather. There is a certain logic to replacing in-kind programs with cash transfers that is very compelling on its own terms, but in practice few people would agree to it. One of our biggest transfer programs is Medicaid, and converting it to a cash transfer would mean that especially sick poor people would go without heath care, something the left would find unacceptable. (You can see this understanding implicit in the individual mandate, which not only serves the wonkish goals of avoiding the death spiral and cross-subsidizing the sick, but perhaps more importantly the political goal of including in universal coverage those people who would rather spend their money on something other than insurance premiums). Likewise, the right has a habit of objecting when welfare recipients spend transfers frivolously on either an isolated or widespread basis. In the 1990s it was a common trope to complain about welfare recipients who had cable television. More recently we've seen complaints about (and restrictions against) people drawing transfer payments from ATMs at casinos and strip clubs or using food stamps to buy junk food. That is to say, there is an implicit, pan-ideological consensus that transfers are about society providing the poor with that which we deem it appropriate for them to have and not that which they would purchase themselves if they had the money. A cash transfer welfare state would be politically untenable even though it is probably true that cash would be more efficient (as assessed by the utilitarian logic of market pricing).

Human beings have a variety of ways to exchange goods and services and the ways we do so both reveals and structures the nature of our relationships. Alan Fiske's relational models theory describes four types of exchange:

• communal sharing -- people are effectively a common unit and can freely draw resources from communal property, as with households
• authority ranking -- people have asymmetric duties and obligations to one another, as with patron-client ties
• equality matching -- people match actions on a like-for-like and tit-for-tat basis, as with friends
• market pricing -- people commensurate across categories on the basis of ratios (with prices being a special case of these ratios when we have money as a unit of account), as with traders in a market

In this schema we would say that Mormons have a communal sharing relationship with each other (at least for some services) whereas welfare recipients are in an authority ranking relationship with the state, as are Wharton students in authority ranking relationships with their grandmothers but in equality matching relationships with one another.

The interesting thing about equality matching is how central reciprocity is to it. It is a common trope in the gift literature to note the impossibility of the "pure" (that is, unreciprocated) gift. In Debt,** Graeber notes that some religious traditions emphasize that because anonymous gifts cannot be reciprocated (either in-kind or with clientalism) they are the highest form of charity. Graeber uses the impossibility of reciprocity with Santa Claus as a familiar example, and I would add that traditional iconography of St. Nicholas depicts him furtively tossing gold through a window to serve as dowries for three poor sisters who would otherwise be driven to prostitution. The social scientific point is not to argue that we ought to avoid reciprocity, only that it is so core to gifts that avoiding it requires special circumstances and in the normal course of things a gift will be reciprocated. The normal way not to enter into a reciprocal relationship is not to gift at all. For instance, last Christmas I deliberated giving a friend an album that I thought would resonate deeply with him, but I refrained from doing so precisely because I didn't want to impose an obligation to reciprocate. This same friend and I have bought one another meals, but reciprocity is achieved in-kind and is not commensurable with other types of gifts. In equality matching a meal cannot be easily reciprocated with an album, but only like for like.

A major source of social conflicts and scandals is when people disagree about what relational model does or ought to characterize an interaction. For instance, suppose a woman is attracted to a man at a party and they end up sleeping together. As they part, he says "that was great" and hands her $100. In blackboard economics this is just lovely. We know the utility to be derived from the hookup was sufficient to motivate her to go home with this guy. If x utility exceeded her reservation then surely x + $100 exceeds it by that much more. Surplus! Of course no human being (including economists) actually believes this. We all know intuitively that she would not view the $100 as income but as an accusation. In contrast if the man did not hand her cash at their parting but rather a day or two later sent her flowers and similar gifts worth $100 she would not be insulted. We can imagine her refusing either the cash or the gifts, but in the one case her refusal would mean "I'm offended that you think I'm a whore" whereas in the other it would mean "I'm sorry but I don't want to get into a relationship."

In the last week we've seen a fair amount of outrage over Facebook billionaire Eduardo Saverin renouncing his US citizenship to reduce his capital gains tax liability. The controversy is premised on an understanding that the citizen's proper relationship to the state is one of authority ranking where the state has such obligations to the citizen as to provide physical security and the citizen has such reciprocal but asymmetric obligations as to pay taxes. This understanding is betrayed by Saverin's tax exile, which treats citizenship as in the realm of market pricing. Not surprisingly people who tend to be skeptical of authority ranking relationships view Saverin's actions more sympathetically.

For another illustration of how we can get into trouble with conflicting understandings of relational models, consider another episode from Mitt Romney's life. In 1981, Romney was arrested for launching a boat after a police officer warned him that his boat's license number was inadequately displayed and he faced a $50 fine. Romney launched the boat anyway and the cop arrested him. What seems to have gone on is a conflict in how to understand the interaction up unto that point. The cop seems to have seen himself as giving an order which was then disobeyed. That is, a violation of an authority relationship which requires the lower party to show deference. Conversely, Romney described the situation as "I was willing to pay the fine. But if he had said don't launch the boat and not mentioned the fine, I would not have done it." That is he was operating under the understanding that, as Gneezy and Rustichini later put it, "a fine is a price." In this model a naked demand carries the weight of the relationship behind it, whether it be between daycare workers and parents who are late to pick up their kids or between a cop and citizen whose boat's tags are marred by some stray paint. This moral weight will often be enough to prevent transgression. In contrast a fine puts a price on the action and this finite price may be less inhibiting than the unpriced, and thus in some sense infinitely priced, demand. Romney's understanding was that the fine was a price and that if he was willing to pay the price this would fully settle the matter. In other words, it was a matter of market pricing. In contrast the police officer did not seem to be worried that Romney would skip out on the fine but that, as Eric Cartman would say, he had failed to "respect my authorité" ranking.

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* I am familiar with and admire Waldfogel's work because we both study mass media. My favorite of his articles is a QJE on chain ownership in radio to which I devote an entire lecture in my undergraduate course.

** Graeber uses a similar typology as Fiske but with slightly different nomenclature: communism, hierarchy, and exchange. The main difference between their respective typologies is that whereas Fiske has separate categories for equality matching and market pricing, Graeber treats both of them as subcategories of "exchange."

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Guest post by Gabriel Rossman -- Sociologist at UCLA. His work applies economic sociology to media industries. He blogs at Code and Culture and is the author of Climbing the Charts.

I study media markets and one of the interesting things about the entertainment industry is there's a lot of complex pricing. This includes both simple bundling (eg, basic cable) and two-part tariffs (eg, HBO). These pricing practices are forms of price discrimination, which is to say they are ways to customize the price point so the seller doesn't leave much money on the table relative to each particular consumer's willingness to pay. It's kind of like haggling but it works at scale over a large number of consumers.

Price discrimination is a mixed bag. On the downside it pushes consumer surplus close to zero, meaning you always feel like you're getting ripped off but not so much that you balk. On the upside it increases total revenues and quantity supplied. The effects can be pretty substantial. For instance, the record labels' main problem isn't decreased quantity supplied but the end of bundling with the switch from albums to singles. Likewise one of the most popular explanations for the decline of the Hollywood studio system is that the Paramount decision banned a form of bundling called block-booking and this decreased revenues sufficiently that the studios couldn't maintain a vertically-integrated production system.

The thing is, that price discrimination is only supposed to work under certain very narrow circumstances. Suppose we have a two-part tariff seller, say, a movie theater selling tickets for $10 and popcorn for $5. If a competing theater opens across the street charging $12 for tickets and $2 for popcorn, you'd expect to see everybody who doesn't like popcorn stay at the first theater and everybody who does like popcorn go to the second theater. That is, a price discrimination scheme should very quickly break down in the face of perfect competition and in fact this problem is so well understood that monopoly is understood to be a scope condition. For instance, the word "monopoly" is in the title of one of the major cites on two-part tariffs.

So what about when you don't have a monopoly or perfect competition, but something in between? In theory, you don't need a perfectly competitive market with innumerable infinitesimally small price-takers in order to get something that looks a lot like a Walrasian auction. This is why industrial-organizational econ loves game theory. Once you apply a prisoner's dilemma model to price competition in a market with two sellers (duopoly) or a handful of sellers (oligopoly), it looks a lot more like a market with an infinite number of sellers (perfect competition) than it does like a market with exactly one seller (monopoly).

The thing is though that we have lots of cases of price discrimination and most of these cases occur in reasonably competitive markets, with multiple sellers and no apparent price-fixing. For instance, I previously noted that movie theaters practice two-part tariffs but let's reflect on the fact that this is a competitive industry. This raises the puzzle of why we haven't seen a chain of movie theaters compete by giving up the two-part tariff business model, which would mean cheaper popcorn but higher ticket prices.

These kinds of issues are why I was so interested when a colleague recently sent me Xavier Gabaix and David Laibson's QJE paper "Shrouded Attributes, Consumer Myopia, and Information Suppression in Competitive Markets" (ungated version). The reason the paper is important is that last phrase about "competitive markets." It shows how all sorts of stuff we already knew could go on with monopolies can also occur under competition. "Shrouded attributes" refers to hidden costs like the marked-up component of the two-part tariff. The "consumer myopia" phrase explains that this works if you make the reasonable assumption that many consumers aren't reasonable.

The logic goes that we imagine two types of consumers, myopic and sophisticated, and two types of products, "no hidden fees" (but with a high base price) versus "low price" (but which nickel and dimes you to death). The myopic customers will flock to the low price provider because they don't realize that they'll wind up buying $10 peanuts from the minibar. The sophisticated customers will go to either the "no hidden fees" or the "low price" provider based on who gives a better deal when you tally up the total cost of the basket they expect to consume. What this means from the provider's perspective is there are no customers who will pay more for a given basket of goods under a "no hidden fees" plan than they would in a "low price" plan. As such, the "low price" plan can crowd out the "no hidden fees" plan.*

The upshot is that some of the things we thought could only exist given the rare scope condition of monopolies or collusion can also exist given the all too plausible assumption of bounded rationality. This is pretty cool in an empirical sense because when our theories told us this sort of thing could only exist with monopolies it was kind of anomalous to go through life constantly coming across $150 printers that take $100 toner cartridges, smart phones which cost $200 but which lock you into a two-year contract at $80/month, hotels that charge $100/night but add a mandatory $15 "resort fee," etc.

My favorite example of how consumer myopia works this way is how rental cars now offer you prepaid gas for about 10% less than the price you'd pay at the pump. The consumer may be thinking, wow, $3.90 a gallon is actually pretty cheap compared to $4.30 at the Exxon station, I should prepay for this full tank of gas. What doesn't occur to this consumer is that this is only cheap if you use the full tank. If you bring it back with half a tank you're effectively paying $7.80 a gallon. The consumers who appreciate this don't buy the plan but those who don't see the hitch may well buy it. As long as the base rental price isn't too low it makes sense for the rental company to more or less break even on people who pass up this offer and make an easy $20 or so profit on those who sign up for it.

There are also some big policy implications. Under the old model, as long as you have a modest antitrust policy in place, the market will sort things out so consumer protection can be limited to outright fraud. Adding bounded rationality into the mix suggests that consumers really can sign up for a bad deal. This then makes it somewhat facile to claim that by definition any freely entered exchange is mutually beneficial and from this we can imagine a variety of consumer protections. You may still have reasons to be skeptical of intervention, but it's not tenable to say "markets work just great, thank you very much." 

* You may have seen the argument that even if individuals are irrational, markets can still be rational because irrationality gets arbitraged out. Let's accept this for the sake of argument and just note that it has scope conditions that basically mean it only works on Wall Street. With retail markets it's difficult to establish a secondary market and so you don't see the sophisticated people doing arbitrage that pushes us all back to predictions consistent with rational actors.

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Guest post by Jim Manzi, founder and Chairman of Applied Predictive Technologies, and the author of Uncontrolled: The Surprising Payoff of Trial-and-Error for Business, Politics and Society.

Gabriel, your very deep post that, in passing, requested my comment was fascinating.  My family thanks you for the weekend I just spent staring off into space.

You open with this:

Sampling error? Omitted variable bias? Bah, that's for first-year grad students. What I find really interesting is there are some fairly basic principles for how analysis can get really screwy but which can't be fixed by adding more control variables, increasing your sample size, or fiddling with assumptions about the distribution of the dependent variable.

I spend an enormous amount of time in my book arguing that that this problem is pervasive and significant, and that exactly this triptych of remedies will fail to enable us to build models that make useful, reliable and non-obvious predictions for the effects of our interventions in human social systems.  In it, I take apart some celebrated social science models for failing in this respect.  But in the spirit of what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, I then take apart a model that I built to estimate the effect of changing the name of a convenience store, to show how all three together can't put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Start at the most foundational level: What is causality?  I have an engineer's perspective on this.  What I care about is my ability to predict the effect of my interventions better than I can without the model. 

Consider two questions:

1.     - Does A cause B?

2.    - If I take action A, will it cause outcome B?

I don't care about the first, or more precisely, I might care about it, but only as scaffolding that might ultimately help me to answer the second.

For example, in your shoes story, I don't care whether the characteristic of discomfort cause shoes to be considered attractive.  I care about whether, for example, if I take an existing type of shoes and narrow the toes, this will cause them to get more coverage in fashion magazines, sell more units or whatever.

In general, the best way to determine this is to take some comfortable shoes, narrow the toes, and then see what happens to sales.  That is, to run an experiment.

There are big problems with this approach.  One obvious one is that it is often impossible or impractical to run the experiment.  But even if we assume that I have done exactly this experiment, I still have the problem of measuring the causal effect of the intervention.  In a complicated system, like shoe stores, I have to answer the question of how many pairs I would have sold in the, say, three months after changing my design to narrow toes - I can't just assume that I would have sold the same number of wide-toed shoes that I did in the prior three months.  For reasons well-known to you, and that I go through at length in the book, the best way to measure this in a complicated system is a randomized field trial (RFT) in which I randomly assign some stores to get the new shoes and others to keep selling the old shoes.  In essence, random assignment allows me to roughly hold constant all of the "screwy" effects that you reference between the test and control group.

But what many cheerleaders for randomized experiments gloss over is that even if I have executed a competent experiment, it is not obvious how I turn this result in to a prediction rule for the future (the problem of generalization or external validity).  Here's how I put this in an article a couple of years ago:

In medicine, for example, what we really know from a given clinical trial is that this particular list of patients who received this exact treatment delivered in these specific clinics on these dates by these doctors had these outcomes, as compared with a specific control group. But when we want to use the trial's results to guide future action, we must generalize them into a reliable predictive rule for as-yet-unseen situations. Even if the experiment was correctly executed, how do we know that our generalization is correct?

A physicist generally answers that question by assuming that predictive rules like the law of gravity apply everywhere, even in regions of the universe that have not been subject to experiments, and that gravity will not suddenly stop operating one second from now. No matter how many experiments we run, we can never escape the need for such assumptions. Even in classical therapeutic experiments, the assumption of uniform biological response is often a tolerable approximation that permits researchers to assert, say, that the polio vaccine that worked for a test population will also work for human beings beyond the test population.

But as we climb a ladder of phenomenological complexity from physics to biology to sociology, this problem of generalization becomes more severe.  As I put it in Uncontrolled:

We can run a clinical trial in Norfolk, Virginia, and conclude with tolerable reliability that "Vaccine X prevents disease Y." We can't conclude that if literacy program X works in Norfolk, then it will work everywhere. The real predictive rule is usually closer to something like "Literacy program X is effective for children in urban areas, and who have the following range of incomes and prior test scores, when the following alternatives are not available in the school district, and the teachers have the following qualifications, and overall economic conditions in the district are within the following range." And by the way, even this predictive rule stops working ten years from now, when different background conditions obtain in the society.

We must have some model that generalizes.  What we really need to do is to build a distribution of results of "experiments + model" in predicting the results of future experiments.  An example of what I mean applied to criminology is the following from the article I referenced above:

One of the most widely publicized of these [criminology RFTs] tried to determine the best way for police officers to handle domestic violence. In 1981 and 1982, Lawrence Sherman, a respected criminology professor at the University of Cambridge, randomly assigned one of three responses to Minneapolis cops responding to misdemeanor domestic-violence incidents: they were required to arrest the assailant, to provide advice to both parties, or to send the assailant away for eight hours. The experiment showed a statistically significant lower rate of repeat calls for domestic violence for the mandatory-arrest group. The media and many politicians seized upon what seemed like a triumph for scientific knowledge, and mandatory arrest for domestic violence rapidly became a widespread practice in many large jurisdictions in the United States.

But sophisticated experimentalists understood that because of the issue's high causal density, there would be hidden conditionals to the simple rule that "mandatory-arrest policies will reduce domestic violence." The only way to unearth these conditionals was to conduct replications of the original experiment under a variety of conditions. Indeed, Sherman's own analysis of the Minnesota study called for such replications. So researchers replicated the RFT six times in cities across the country. In three of those studies, the test groups exposed to the mandatory-arrest policy again experienced a lower rate of rearrest than the control groups did. But in the other three, the test groups had a higher rearrest rate.

Why? In 1992, Sherman surveyed the replications and concluded that in stable communities with high rates of employment, arrest shamed the perpetrators, who then became less likely to reoffend; in less stable communities with low rates of employment, arrest tended to anger the perpetrators, who would therefore be likely to become more violent. The problem with this kind of conclusion, though, is that because it is not itself the outcome of an experiment, it is subject to the same uncertainty that Aristotle's observations were. How do we know if it is right? By running an experiment to test it--that is, by conducting still more RFTs in both kinds of communities and seeing if they bear it out. Only if they do can we stop this seemingly endless cycle of tests begetting more tests. Even then, the very high causal densities that characterize human society guarantee that no matter how refined our predictive rules become, there will always be conditionals lurking undiscovered. The relevant questions then become whether the rules as they now exist can improve practices and whether further refinements can be achieved at a cost less than the benefits that they would create.

We can then then compare the accuracy of such a theory this to analogous distributions of predictions made by non-experimental methods (that can vary from sophisticated regression models to newer machine learning techniques to prediction markets to the judgments of experts, and so on) for predicting the results of future experiments.  As I put this in the book:

The job of experimentation in business is to put rounds on target. Abstract discussion of causality is a means to the end of using prior experimental results to more accurately predict the shareholder value impacts of various alternative potential courses of action.

As I go into, there is no absolutely secure philosophical resting place.  That is, even if I have such a distribution of results for the predictions made by various methods, I can't ever be absolutely certain that this distribution won't suddenly change.  (I expend a lot of effort trying to unify the problem of induction and the reference class problem to show that this is always a risk, no matter what.)  But I think this is as close as you can get. 

What this demands, of course, is a lot of experiments.  This is why lowering the cost per test is so critical.  Not just as an efficiency measure, but because in practice in enables me to get to much more reliable predictions of the effects of my proposed interventions.

To come back to where we started, I think this this is the way to evaluate whether some model, tool, guru or whatever has "really" discovered a causal relationship.  A statement about causality only has operational meaning as a predictor of future results of rigorous tests of the causal theory for the outcome of an intervention.

Guest post by Scott Winship, Brookings Institution. Follow him on Twitter: @swinshi

I promised that this was the last post I would write this week dwelling on rising inequality at the top, and I do want to shift to the comparatively under-appreciated lack of rising inequality in the bottom half of incomes.  But bear with me, as this turned into two separate posts. 

To review, in my first post on high-end inequality, I showed how outsized gains at the top are mostly concentrated in the top half of the top one percent and noted that these gains came even as the poor and middle class became significantly better off.  In my last post, I demonstrated that some potential shortcomings of these estimates do not seem to actually alter conclusions about the rise in inequality.  In my next two posts, however, I want to nevertheless flag some important sources of ambiguity about the data on top incomes that are available.

First, there is some question as to how robust some of the key results for early decades in the Piketty/Saez series are. You can use the figures they have made available to compute the average income of the bottom 90 percent or 99 percent of tax returns over time. In the chart below, the red line gives the trend in the bottom 90 percent's average income, pegged to 1917 levels.  It shows an implausible 91 percent increase over the three-year period from 1940 to 1943.  As the chart indicates, a lot happened during these years that might affect the Piketty/Saez estimates.  From 1939 to 1946, federal income taxes went from being something only the rich paid to something nearly everyone paid.  This fact matters because the low filing rates in the first part of the decade force Piketty and Saez to compute their figures differently than they do in later years.  Until 1944, Piketty and Saez determine the share of income received by the top ten percent (or top one percent) of tax returns by comparing the income they report to an aggregate figure drawn from national statistics collected outside the IRS.  They are forced to do so rather than compute total income received from the tax return data itself, which isn't informative in years when few people filed.

The purple line in my chart attempts to correct the average income estimate for the bottom 90 percent.  Let me get into the weeds in a moment to say what exactly I did, but first note what happens to the share of income received by the top ten percent when I make this correction, conveyed by comparing the blue and green lines.  Rather than showing pre-1940 income concentration at the top to rival that in the last 30 years, and rather than showing a big decline in income concentration in the early 1940s, the revised trend indicates hardly any change in income concentration from 1930 to 1980.  Since the basic assumption among researchers who study income inequality trends is that inequality has followed a big U-shaped trend over the past 100 years, this is kind of a big deal (but of course, it makes the recent run-up in inequality that much more striking).

ALL ABOUT THE LAST 30 YEARS

Now, before anyone runs too much with this revisionist take, I don't want to make the strong claim that inequality didn't change much until the past 30 years. For starters, if you do this same exercise for the top one percent rather than the top ten percent, you still get a big decline in inequality between 1930 and the mid-1970s, though smaller than before.  The 1929 peak drops from 24 percent to 19 percent, and the early 1940s decline that Piketty and Saez show shrinks dramatically. It would certainly require a change in thinking about historical income patterns if half the drop in the share received by the top one percent from 1928 to the mid-1970s accrued to the next richest 9 percent.  In the Piketty/Saez data, that next-richest 9 percent didn't receive any of the bounty.

More importantly, however, other data sets using other measures of income and earnings inequality also show big declines in the 1940s (though note that the trend for the top one percent doesn't have to mirror what happens to inequality among the 99 percent).  The basic point is just that relatively innocuous-seeming decisions can produce pretty dramatically different numbers in this earlier period. 

Furthermore, marginal tax rates rose dramatically over the period.  In 1929, a taxpayer with $100,000 in today's dollars paid a 3 percent marginal tax rate, and it was just 10 percent in 1940.  In 1941, however, it jumped to 21 percent, rising to 30 percent in 1942 and to 38 percent by 1948.  For a taxpayer with a million dollars in income in today's dollars, the rise was from 23 percent in 1929 to 39 percent in 1939, jumping to 51 percent in 1940, 63 percent in 1941, 78 percent in 1942, and 89 percent by 1948.  You think these taxpayers had strong incentives to keep their incomes off of federal income tax returns (and out of the Piketty/Saez data)?  Not only were the incentives strong (and options for avoidance plentiful), but the IRS was less equipped to keep up with tax avoidance practices in the days when the federal government was much smaller than it was today.

What about the high-end income concentration estimates for the past thirty years? Anything left to worry about there?  You'll just have to read the next post to find out.  In the meantime, here are the deets for the "correction" I made above.

From 1943 onward, I use the Piketty/Saez numbers (though they show up in my chart below the red line because they are now pegged to a higher 1917 estimate).  From 1940 to 1943, I rely on the annual percent change in average earnings (not total income) for all workers (not just the bottom 90 percent of tax returns) from a separate data source.  Specifically, Saez has a paper with two other coauthors using Social Security Administration data on earnings, and to his credit, they make lots of their figures publicly available too.  In general, the annual growth in SSA average earnings tracks the annual growth in the Piketty/Saez bottom-90-percent income very well over the decades for which both data sets provide estimates--except from 1940-41 to 1946-47. 

After making this correction, from 1917 to 1940 I go back to the annual growth rates in the Piketty/Saez data (the SSA data only goes back to 1937).  In other words, I go backward from 1943 to 1917, correcting the 1940-43 trend, which raises the pre-1940 average incomes when I go backward from 1940 to 1917. You can see that this fixes the big 1940-43 increase that the red line shows. The big assumption here is that the top 10 percent incomes are measured well prior to 1943 (or at least as well as they are after 1943) but the bottom 90 percent incomes are not (because they are residuals from the separate aggregate national income data used).

Guest post by Scott Winship, Brookings Institution. Follow him on Twitter: @swinshi

My last post provided an initial look at the inequality figures focusing on "the top one percent," which show sharply rising income concentration over the past 30 years.  But those figures rely entirely or heavily on tax return data from the IRS.  This creates some issues that warrant skepticism about the magnitude of the increase I described.

Piketty and Saez rank order and compare tax returns to isolate "the top one percent."  But that is not the same thing as rank-ordering and comparing households.  Piketty and Saez themselves note that even after a small adjustment to add in non-filers, there are 30 percent more tax returns than there are households, and average tax-return income is 25 percent smaller than average household income.  Research by the Federal Reserve Board looking at tax returns in 2000 estimated that the number of tax returns filed exceeded the number of tax returns filed by household heads and their partners by 25 percent. 

There are two reasons for the discrepancy.  First, unmarried couples (and many married couples) file separate tax returns, as do teens with summer jobs and college kids on work-study. You can see why this might be a problem: the "top 1 percent" of tax returns ends up being a bigger group than the top 1 percent of households because the bottom "99 percent" is padded with these extra people.  That's fine as far as it goes, and if the ratio of tax returns to households hasn't risen appreciably, then the trend might be the same for households even if the share of income received by the top one percent of households is overstated by the share received by the top one percent of tax returns.

The other reason that average tax-return income is smaller than average household income is that the IRS data excludes income from nontaxable sources, the most important of which include nontaxable amounts of government benefits and of pensions and employer-provided health insurance. Including these sources of income would tend to lower the share of income going to the top, and it might reduce the increase too.

CBO's figures are theoretically based on households, and they include all public benefits and employer-provided health coverage as income.  But in some sense, the CBO figures are even trickier to interpret than the Piketty/Saez figures.  That's because CBO analysts start with households in the Current Population Survey data, attempt to disaggregate households and their incomes to tax-return-like units, and append actual IRS tax return data from similar-looking tax-return-like units to the disaggregated household data.  They then aggregate the incomes back into households and combine income from the tax return data with income from the household survey.  Finally, they rank people (not households or tax returns) on the basis of incomes adjusted to account for household size differences, but report household incomes and shares going to the top and going to other groups in non-adjusted dollars.

All of this is much less straightforward than going to a household survey and just ordering households by household income to see what you get. The problem is that nearly all household surveys are incapable of giving reliable information about the top 1 percent, simply because in order to sweep up members of, say, the top one percent of the top one percent in a survey, you have to go to great lengths--either interviewing a massive number of people or developing a distinct strategy for finding and interviewing the richest of the rich. Even when massive surveys are available--the census that is taken once every ten years, for instance--because of privacy concerns, the incomes of the very rich are camouflaged. Only one survey has taken the second approach of strategically focusing on the rich separately in collecting income data: the Survey of Consumer Finances (SCF). The best one can do with other household surveys is to make some assumption about how the camouflaged incomes at the top are really distributed and to assign those households new incomes.

I recently analyzed the 1982 and 2006 income data from the SCF, which are the earliest and latest years for which comparable estimates are available. All of the figures in this paragraph compare incomes before taxes that include realized capital gains. The share of the top one percent in the SCF rose from 11 to 21 percent from 1982 to 2006, which is startlingly close to the Piketty/Saez figures (11 to 23 percent) and the CBO pre-tax figures (10 to 19 percent).  That is despite the fact that the income levels in the data sets differ notably. In the SCF, the entry point to the top one percent was $317,500 in 1982 (expressed in terms of what that income would have purchased in 2010).  It rose to $698,700 by 2006 -- an increase of 120 percent. In the Piketty and Saez data those numbers are $206,600 and $407,100 -- significantly lower, as expected, but the 97 percent increase is similar to that in the SCF. In the CBO data, the entry point to the top one percent is defined in terms of size-adjusted income, so we can't compare it to the others.  But the increase in the size-adjusted threshold was 113 percent. Even the percent of real income gains that accrued to the top one percent from 1982 to 2006 is similar across the data sets: 45 percent in the SCF, 53 percent in Piketty/Saez, and 39 percent in the CBO data.

In short, despite the shortcomings of the IRS-based top-one-percent measures in terms of units of analysis and income definitions, the basic conclusions about the rise in inequality hold up awfully well using the very different -- and in some ways preferable -- SCF. So why can't I learn to stop worrying and love the top one percent inequality estimates? One last post on trends in high-end inequality, and then I'll turn to low-end inequality.

Guest post by Gabriel Rossman -- Sociologist at UCLA.  His work applies economic sociology to media industries. He blogs at Code and Culture and is the author of Climbing the Charts.

[Since our hostess requested that I talk a bit about my forthcoming book during my guest-blogging stint I'm posting an excerpt describing the two fundamental patterns through which things get popular.]

This book's substantive concern of how songs become hits on the radio is part of a more general class of problems in social science known as the diffusion of innovation. This literature covers a wide variety of substantive areas where actors within a population each decide if and when to adopt an innovation. The seminal studies in this field were about such eclectic phenomena as:

• farmers in Iowa planting a new kind of corn 
• firms in heavy industry adopting various new production technologies 
• small-town doctors prescribing the antibiotic tetracycline 
• postwar households purchasing such appliances as televisions and washing machines

The innovations described in the literature range from drastic changes that reorder the actor's cultural and economic experience to fairly minor variations on incumbent practices for which "innovation" is perhaps too grandiose a term. In current sociology, one of the main applications of diffusion analysis is asking such questions as when firms adopt new business practices or how activists adopt new tactics.

At the most basic level, one can study diffusion simply by drawing a graph and looking at its shape to see whether it is more concave or more s-shaped. The graph shows typical curves of each ideal type. The shape of the graph is informative because different processes create differently shaped graphs; thus, seeing the shape of the graph gives very strong clues as to the process that created it. In a diffusion graph the x-axis is time, which can be denominated in whatever unit is appropriate. Many of the canonical studies measure time in years, but tetracycline spread in a matter of months, and pop songs usually spread even faster. The y-axis is how popular the innovation is at a particular time. Usually the y-axis is cumulative, showing how many actors have adopted the innovation to date, though sometimes they are plotted as instantaneous, showing how many actors are adopting in each period.

This implies that diffusion is about seeing how many actors adopt the innovation in each period, and it is, but this can be misleading. The reason is that it's quite a different thing for a hundred out of a thousand to adopt than for a hundred out of a hundred. The number of actors who have yet to adopt as of a time is the "risk pool," and the proportion of the risk pool who adopt in a time interval is the "hazard" rate. For a given hazard, the raw number of adoptions decreases as the risk pool shrinks. This is a case of Zeno's paradox, in which fleet- footed Achilles races a tortoise but allows the reptile a head start. If in each minute he closes half the remaining distance, then after the first minute he will have closed 1/2 the distance, after the second minute, 3/4 of the initial gap, then 7/8, 15/16, 31/32, etc. Returning to diffusion, imagine that a thousand doctors have a hazard rate of 10 percent for adopting tetracycline. In the first month 100 doctors (a tenth of 1,000) will write their first prescriptions for tetracycline; in the second month 90 will adopt, for a total of 190 doctors prescribing it; in the third month 81 will adopt, for a total of 271, and so on. In this example the hazard remains constant at one-tenth per month. Therefore, the proportion of the risk pool converted in each period is the same, but the raw volume decreases rapidly. This results in the concave-shaped curve labeled constant hazard" in the graph, which shows rapid growth initially and asymptotically limited growth thereafter.

So far we have assumed that the hazard is constant. This may be warranted if we imagine that there is some constant force acting in the population and encouraging actors to adopt the innovation, such as a marketing campaign with a fixed budget. For this reason these curves are often known as "external influence" in that the innovation is being spread by something outside of the population adopting it. However, imagine that the innovation is spread as an endogenous process within the population, perhaps by word of mouth. This might be because there is no marketing budget or because the actors simply don't trust advertisements or salesmen to provide impartial advice. For instance, imagine that farmers are deciding to plant a new type of maize that presents higher risk but offers higher reward. Most farmers are hesitant to make so radical a change, but one farmer is willing to experiment with the seed and, on seeing his higher crop yields, he tells two neighbors about his satisfactory experience and they try it. After their own satisfactory experiences they in turn each tell two others. If each person using the corn tells two new neighbors about it, then one farmer will plant it in the first year, three in the second, nine in the fourth, twenty-seven in the fifth, eighty-one in the sixth, and so on. This pattern shows slow diffusion at first, but follows exponential growth so that once the innovation reaches a critical mass of the population, it diffuses rapidly.

Of course there are a finite number of farmers, so the exponential growth can not continue forever. Once the innovation starts to become popular, many of the people who one might tell about it are in fact already using it, placing exponential growth for the hazard in tension with Zeno's paradox for the risk pool. Contagious diffusion can only occur when someone who has experienced the innovation encounters someone who has not. Diffusion is slow early on because there are too few adopters who can promote the innovation (a low hazard), and it is slow later on because there are so few potential adopters remaining (a small risk pool), but in the middle lies a "tipping point" of intense diffusion where many people are promoting the innovation to many who have yet to adopt it (a high hazard and large risk pool). The resulting graph is the s-shaped curve shown in the graph and labeled as "endogenous hazard."

Although the example of internal influence described above relies on direct word-of-mouth contagion, the same implications apply to "threshold" or "cascade" models where potential adopters are aware of how many others have adopted the innovation but don't directly communicate with them. For instance, many people who don't make a habit of smashing property and assaulting people on the street will nonetheless join in a sufficiently large riot because safety in numbers means they need be much less afraid of punishment than if they were alone to misbehave. In this model it doesn't matter whether the rioters directly communicate with each other, only that potential rioters have a sense of how large the riot has become. Although in the riot example the potential rioter is directly estimating the size of the mob, this miasmic sort of diffusion is often mediated by things like best- seller lists or website download counts that aggregate and make salient information on popularity. So you may be more likely to buy a book when it becomes a best-seller because the book's popularity gives it more conspicuous placement in bookstores, even if you don't personally know a single individual who has read the book or have even observed strangers reading the book in public.

Thus, we have two distinct patterns for how an innovation might diffuse across a population. In the second style, the proportion of holdouts who adopt in each period is determined by how many actors are already using the innovation. Because the hazard rate is a function of prior adoptions, this is an endogenous pattern or an "internal-influence" cycle. In contrast, in the first style a constant proportion of holdouts adopt in every period. Because a constant proportion cannot be a function of how many people have already adopted, it can be interpreted as reflecting an "external-influence" on the system, or an "exogenous" pattern. Of course these patterns are ideal-typical and real cases can approximate one or the other or even a compromise between them. For instance, the diffusion of tetracycline was mostly exogenous, the diffusion of hybrid corn almost perfectly endogenous, and the diffusion of postwar consumer appliances a compromise between the two patterns. Much of the literature brackets this issue of how different types of innovations spread and instead focus on a single innovation and then ask which actors adopted that innovation particularly early. However, in this book I emphasize the question of the nature of diffusion itself and focus on the question of under what circumstances songs follow the concave curve and under which circumstances they follow the s-curve. This is the type of question that can not be answered by studying a single innovation's diffusion history, but only in comparing those of many innovations, and seeing under what circumstances an innovation's trajectory will follow one path or the other. Such an endeavor requires data on many innovations, and this is a role for which radio singles are well-suited for they occur in such numbers, spread so rapidly, and are so well-documented as to serve the purposes of sociology as admirably as the fruit fly does for those of genetics.

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Guest post by Jim Manzi, founder and Chairman of Applied Predictive Technologies, and the author of Uncontrolled: The Surprising Payoff of Trial-and-Error for Business, Politics and Society.

A few months ago, I was asked to give a talk to the MIT Enterprise Forum in London on the rules for executing a successful new start-up company. Having listened to more than one such bloviation session myself, I began with some caveats.

First, even though every guy who has done a successful start-up somehow feels he's therefore become the philosopher-king of business, all experience is bounded. Any observations I make apply to venture-backed enterprise software targeting scale-up. Many of the things you would do for a biotech start-up or a consumer-oriented social media business, as examples, are probably very different. Further, there are companies that exist to sell products at a profit, and companies that exist to sell equity to investors. I only know about the former. The latter tend to flourish in the later stages of a bubble, and rely on a totally different set of skills related to promotions, networking and PR.

Second, even within the universe of relevant companies, all "rules for success" are either obvious or incomplete. Each suggestion in this post will be incomplete, in that it will ignore inevitable exceptions and complications. In other words, there are no rules for success. If there were, lots more people would do successful start-ups.

I'll divide these observations into those relevant for each phase of getting from a new business idea through about the second or third year of operations. After that (if you are the unusual start-up that makes it that far), things become quite different again. Caveat emptor.

IN THE BEGINNING..

You are selling a dream to prospective investors, employees and customers. Be ruthlessly honest with yourself at all times.

Have a co-founder. You're getting married to this person, so make sure you trust him or her, have great mutual respect, and can speak openly at all times. Drama is your enemy. Ideally, you should have high overlap in your view of the world, and only partial overlap in your skill sets.

Seek blue water. Do something innovative enough that nobody else is even trying. This is the best way to get around scale advantages that others have over you. Since you don't know what you're doing yet, it's better if nobody else does either.

Ignore capital markets and industry analysts until you are ready to exploit them; they are rear-view mirrors. If you are doing at start-up phase what the capital markets say is valuable, you're usually too late. You have to do what they say is stupid now (or are just not thinking about now).

In several years, you will either be proven wrong (in which case, they will say "told you so"), or you will be proven right (in which case, they will shamelessly ignore their prior opinions). It's nothing personal; it's just their business model.

Plans are basically useless, but a small amount of planning before you start can be valuable. A good business plan is done in Excel, not Word:

-- See if you can (A) make a list of the companies that might buy your offer, (B) estimate what each would pay for it. Multiply A by B. This, not "the CRM market" or whatever, is how to think about market size.

-- Guess at how many people at what comp level by person you would need to provide some early version of this offer. Gross up the headcount by a simple factor for rent and other costs, plus any other very expensive capital equipment you need to make a simple cash flow statement.

-- Figure two years of this cost run rate with no revenue, then some time with revenue at a loss, to get to break-even. This cumulative total is your capital requirement. Double it. This is still probably an under-estimate.

-- See if it looks like revenue might be greater than cost at some kind of a rough, early steady-state.

-- Always assume an average amount of luck in the long-run, and terrible luck in the short-run.

FUNDING IT

Fund it yourself for as long as you can stand it. Use your own money. Get some kind of revenue coming in the door to offset costs partially, but at least as important, to demonstrate that this is a business, not something on a cocktail napkin. However, don't make the mistake of becoming a consultant doing fee-for-service work, and not really become a technology company that can scale.

The more you are able to go to VCs with a business, rather than an idea, the less equity you will give up. This difference in A-round dilution is massive. Early dilution is the lever that moves the world. If you really are pursuing blue water, the slower time to market will be worth the trade-off.

Venture capitalists only provide money. I had a very good relationship with my VCs. I wasn't looking for a friend, strategy adviser or corporate recruiter. They gave me money, and I gave them an exit with a very good IRR. If Board members and investors can know better than you what should be done when they spend 1 - 2 days per month at the company, then you shouldn't be the CEO.

Always retain operational control. Your world will be complicated enough as it is. Keep things simple internally.

Don't trade equity for third-party services. It's so tempting to do this when you're cash-constrained, but you will regret it later.

10 TIPS FOR THE NEXT FEW YEARS

(1) Don't fantasize about your prestigious Board members, or partnerships, or being acquired, or anything else saving you. These can be very useful tools, but unless you win the lottery, they will help on the margin. You're on your own.

(2) Spend every nickel like it was your last one ...

(3) except for people. The team with the smartest guys usually wins. Pursue people quality beyond the point of apparent irrationality.

(4) Org charts, budgets and plans are mostly a waste of time at this stage.

(5) If you can't describe somebody's job to your mother, find something useful for this person to do.

(6) Run the business as if you are going to own 100% of the shares forever and live off the dividends.

(7) Ignore supposed competitors, whether incumbents or start-ups; ignore external advice; ignore time to market; ignore people like me; ignore capital markets. Focus on delivering value to customers at a foreseeable profit.

(8) Treat revenue and (especially) profit are the best possible feedback on your ideas.

(9) To a first-order engineering approximation, the only financial metric that matters is Free Cash Flow. Cash flow breakeven is the most important milestone your company will ever achieve. Your whole world becomes totally different when this happens. This will not necessarily be the view of your VC investors. Remember that they have chips all over the roulette table. You are the chip on 17 Red.

(10) If successful, the company is likely to end up focused on something different (and usually narrower) than you first thought. The trick is that this focus will only be discovered after 6 - 18 months in the market. This transition will be brutal. You need to be decisive about it, and some of the people there at the beginning won't make it.

My prediction for your new venture: Pain.

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