Prediction and Free Will

Prediction and Free Will

If you know all possible conditions of a physical system you can, in theory (though not, as we saw, in practice), project its behavior into the future. But this only concerns inanimate objects. We hit a stumbling block when social matters are involved. It is another matter to project a future when humans are involved, if you consider them living beings and endowed with free will.

If I can predict all of your actions, under given circumstances, then you may not be as free as you think you are. You are an automaton responding to environmental stimuli. You are a slave of destiny. And the illusion of free will could be reduced to an equation that describes the result of interactions among molecules. It would be like studying the mechanics of a clock: a genius with extensive knowledge of the initial conditions and the causal chains would be able to extend his knowledge to the future of your actions. Wouldn’t that be stifling?

However, if you believe in free will you can’t truly believe in social science and economic projection. You cannot predict how people will act. Except, of course, if there is a trick, and that trick is the cord on which neoclassical economics is suspended. You simply assume that individuals will be rational in the future and thus act predictably. There is a strong link between rationality, predictability, and mathematical tractability. A rational individual will perform a unique set of actions in specified circumstances. There is one and only one answer to the question of how “rational” people satisfying their best interests would act. Rational actors must be coherent: they cannot prefer apples to oranges, oranges to pears, then pears to apples. If they did, then it would be difficult to generalize their behavior. It would also be difficult to project their behavior in time.

In orthodox economics, rationality became a straitjacket. Platonified economists ignored the fact that people might prefer to do something other than maximize their economic interests. This led to mathematical techniques such as “maximization,” or “optimization,” on which Paul Samuelson built much of his work. Optimization consists in finding the mathematically optimal policy that an economic agent could pursue. For instance, what is the “optimal” quantity you should allocate to stocks? It involves complicated mathematics and thus raises a barrier to entry by non-mathematically trained scholars. I would not be the first to say that this optimization set back social science by reducing it from the intellectual and reflective discipline that it was becoming to an attempt at an “exact science.” By “exact science,” I mean a second-rate engineering problem for those who want to pretend that they are in the physics department—so-called physics envy. In other words, an intellectual fraud.

Optimization is a case of sterile modeling that we will discuss further in Chapter 17. It had no practical (or even theoretical) use, and so it became principally a competition for academic positions, a way to make people compete with mathematical muscle. It kept Platonified economists out of the bars, solving equations at night. The tragedy is that Paul Samuelson, a quick mind, is said to be one of the most intelligent scholars of his generation. This was clearly a case of very badly invested intelligence. Characteristically, Samuelson intimidated those who questioned his techniques with the statement “Those who can, do science, others do methodology.” If you knew math, you could “do science.” This is reminiscent of psychoanalysts who silence their critics by accusing them of having trouble with their fathers. Alas, it turns out that it was Samuelson and most of his followers who did not know much math, or did not know how to use what math they knew, how to apply it to reality. They only knew enough math to be blinded by it.

Tragically, before the proliferation of empirically blind idiot savants, interesting work had been begun by true thinkers, the likes of J. M. Keynes, Friedrich Hayek, and the great Benoît Mandelbrot, all of whom were displaced because they moved economics away from the precision of second-rate physics. Very sad. One great underestimated thinker is G.L.S. Shackle, now almost completely obscure, who introduced the notion of “unknowledge,” that is, the unread books in Umberto Eco’s library. It is unusual to see Shackle’s work mentioned at all, and I had to buy his books from secondhand dealers in London.

Legions of empirical psychologists of the heuristics and biases school have shown that the model of rational behavior under uncertainty is not just grossly inaccurate but plain wrong as a description of reality. Their results also bother Platonified economists because they reveal that there are several ways to be irrational. Tolstoy said that happy families were all alike, while each unhappy one is unhappy in its own way. People have been shown to make errors equivalent to preferring apples to oranges, oranges to pears, and pears to apples, depending on how the relevant questions are presented to them. The sequence matters! Also, as we have seen with the anchoring example, subjects’ estimates of the number of dentists in Manhattan are influenced by which random number they have just been presented with—the anchor. Given the randomness of the anchor, we will have randomness in the estimates. So if people make inconsistent choices and decisions, the central core of economic optimization fails. You can no longer produce a “general theory,” and without one you cannot predict.

You have to learn to live without a general theory, for Pluto’s sake!