Gary
Becker, who died last year, should be considered one of the most
influential thinkers of our times. A leading
member of the Chicago School of economics since the 1960s, his influence has
been far more pervasive and subtle than that typically attributed to
economists.
Where many high-profile economists like Jeffrey Sachs and
Lawrence Summers get to shape how specific public policies are made, Becker's legacy
has been a more profound and ethical one. In a sense, he has shaped how
human beings are made.
Becker was a pioneer of what has come to be known as
'economic imperialism'—the extension of neo-classical economics into new,
seemingly non-economic territories. This includes areas such as the family and
education, which Becker analysed using the transformative concept of 'human
capital'.
Human capital is a relatively familiar term nowadays, and
has been a critical concept in the justification for tuition fees in the UK, as
Andrew
McGettigan has explored. Yet the idea that humans are a type of capital was
controversial when it first appeared. As Becker put it in his
1992
Nobel Prize acceptance lecture, "until the 1950s, economists generally
assumed that labour power was given and not augmentable". His concept of
human capital changed all that.
What Becker was highlighting was that people make various
life choices, which have a significant impact on their economic fates.
"In human capital theory",
he
argued "people rationally evaluate the benefits and costs of
activities, such as education, training, expenditures on health, migration, and
formation of habits that radically alter
the way they are." [italics added]
As Michel Foucault noticed with brilliant prescience in
his
1978-79
lectures on neoliberalism, Becker's theory provided a template for how
individuals have come to view their own lives. Education becomes a strategic
investment in oneself. Relationships are economic contracts, with costs and
benefits for each party. And we are increasingly conscious that our diets,
exercise regimes, sleep and relaxation influence how attractive we appear and
how effectively we work. The underlying implication of Becker's work is as much
existential as it is economic: each of us
decides
how successful they wish to be.
Habits and behaviors of the mind (or brain) can now be
added to this roster of choices. Mindfulness, digital detoxing, cognitive
behavioral therapy, self-help and evidence-based relaxation techniques (such as
spending more time near foliage) are all premised on the idea that people are,
in Becker's word, 'augmentable'. The feelings that they have can be altered, if
not by the solitary individual concerned, then with the help of a therapist,
digital app, wearable technology or some combination thereof.
This becomes most manifest in the positive psychology
mantra that happiness is a 'choice', something now picked up by Coca-cola with
their
#choosehappiness
marketing campaign. It's possible that this idea can provide a momentary
uplift to someone coping with mild depression. But it seems far more likely to
motivate those who already have power to shape their own circumstances, namely
the rich and healthy.
For example, it is the central idea of the management guru
Shaun Achor, who
explains to businesses and individuals how they can achieve an 'advantage' over
their rivals through strategically building their own happiness. The
neuroeconomist
Paul Zak
suggests that happiness is a 'muscle' that we must remember to exercise
regularly, to keep it in good working order. Supported by a growing armory of
mood-tracking apps and stress-monitoring wristbands, emotions are now something
to be included in our workout routines.
What is perplexing about this deeply individualistic
worldview is that the measurement of happiness has, in the past, been used to
pursue a very different type of political agenda. The measurement of happiness
at a national level was first attempted in the mid-1960s, and was soon a
central technique within the 'social indicators' movement, which seeks to offer
an alternative to materialistic, market-based notions of value. The work of the
UK think tank
The New Economics
Foundation demonstrates the terrific ingenuity that often characterizes
this project.
National happiness indicators, which are now collated by
many official statistical agencies, can provide an important basis for political
critics and campaigners. They highlight the psychological damage that is done
by highly competitive, unequal and privatized economic systems. That said, it
is worth recognising that often this data simply quantifies things that we had
long suspected. Freud famously observed that "love and work are the
cornerstones of our humanness". Happiness economists have confirmed that
unemployment and lack of family time are both very damaging to life
satisfaction.
How is it that a transformative, progressive political
agenda has morphed into a new form of behavioral management? The problem is
that quantification and economics are never innocent in all of this. By
reducing the relationship between mind and world to a quantitative ratio,
wellbeing metrics offers a simple choice of how to pursue progress: do you seek
to change the world or to change the mind? The philosophical relationship
between critical subjectivity and objective circumstances comes to appear like
a set of scales to be balanced, in which the weight on either side can be
adjusted.
There are plenty of critics who employ happiness data to
demand a change in our political economy.
The Spirit Level, by
Richard Wilkinson
and
Kate Pickett, is
one of the most prominent cases of this, focusing on inequality. Psychologists
such as
Tim Kasser have
developed their own measurement tools to demonstrate the negative impact of
materialistic, competitive cultures on our wellbeing. But they appear to be in
a shrinking minority. Why? The answer brings us back to Gary Becker.
At the core of both neoliberal thought and US culture is the belief that the central questions of political organisation have
already been answered. They are therefore beyond the scope of political
transformation or democratic debate. Just as the US constitution seeks to
provide the 'rules of the game' that any American has to play by, so
neoliberals have sought to entrench free market capitalism as the only 'game'
available—the German neoliberal,
Franz Böhm, even spoke in
terms of establishing an 'economic constitution.’ Anyone can succeed or fail,
but to do so, they first have to accept that the game itself is permanent.
In this context, the question of political or economic
transformation becomes forcefully thrust back upon the individual. Given that
capitalism cannot be transformed to meet human needs, humans will have to
transform themselves to meet capitalist needs. Gurus such as Achor or Zak
provide this philosophy with its optimistic, smiling face: I changed myself,
and so can you!
But in the murky world of workfare 'behavioral activation'
programmes, it takes on a more punitive dimension. The idea of
'entrepreneurship' may summon up heroic visions of Steve Jobs, but for many
more people it means having to be entirely amenable to the fluctuating demands
of capital, on a quite fundamental and personal level. When professions such as
journalism become prefixed with the word 'entrepreneurial', this means one
thing only: augment yourself or die.
Political hope must continue to lie in the idea that
social and economic conditions are changeable, and, commensurately, that it is
not up to us to tailor our minds, moods and bodies to circumstances which
dominate us. The problem is that this argument can easily be bracketed as a
form of idealism, which—in contrast to the advocates of 'talking cures'—doesn’t
take everyday suffering seriously. The critique of positive psychology can end
up being dismissed as a nonsensical defence of negativity.
The way to resist this is to insist on a political
understanding of happiness and unhappiness, in which people are authorised to
articulate and offer explanations for their feelings. This means understanding
that some forms of unhappiness - such as a sense of injustice or anger - need
hearing, not treating. This in turn requires careful nurturing and development
of the institutions which facilitate voices to be heard. Happiness is welcome,
but not if it requires people to "radically alter the way they are".