William Pearse

​Development aid: what is it good for? Well, according to much research the answer may well be absolutely nothing. In fact, it may well be worse than nothing. When judged against its aim of ‘instigating economic development and alleviating poverty’, its record is so dismal it looks as though aid actually hinders the achievement of its own stated goals. And the curious thing is this seems to be something of an open secret. Even to an untrained eye the big numbers pertaining to development aid don’t look right. Take Africa, for example. Over $1 trillion dollars has been pumped into the continent in the last 50 years, and how much has it benefited? How many African countries are actually in a better condition now than they were before receiving aid?

Humanity’s evolving nature has propelled it up the food chain, from prey to planetary predator. Just 60,000 years ago, homo sapiens roamed the earth, insignificant and insecure, their existence of little consequence. Life, as Thomas Hobbes put it, was ‘nasty, brutish, and short’. Fast forward to the present and man’s mark is unmistakable, the dawn of the ‘anthropocene’ testament to mesmerizing advances in technology - and a masochistic disregard for our ecosystems.

Microeconomics is the study of what economic actors - be they people, firms, or whole industries -  do when confronted with choice, and how this affects the distribution of resources. It’s fascinatingly revealing but can be frustratingly complex. And regardless of which direction your economics career takes, it’s likely that, at some point, it will have to be mastered. But that’s fine, INOMICS is here. 

History, it feels, is quickening pace. Pandemics, both old and new, are rocking the world, shaking its foundations. Systemic racism, an age-old disease, continues to facilitate violence on black bodies and undermine humanity, while a novel coronavirus has killed hundreds of thousands, disproportionately affected people of colour, and compounded the often racial inequalities that characterise our societies. Protestors now fill the streets, and across much of the anglophone world a tipping point has been reached. What will emerge from this moment is hard to say. A better question may be what do we want to emerge? Either way, there can be little doubt, change is afoot - and it’s been a long time coming.

In its short and controversial history, neoconservatism has changed America. For almost 60 years, the ideology has variously been embraced and rejected; celebrated for its patriotism and commitment to democracy; and disdained for it hawkish arrogance and imperialistic tendencies. It has simultaneously proven uniquely divisive, while also unifying people across party lines. Quite simply, recent American political history cannot be made sense of without an understanding of neoconservatism; such has been its influence.

The emergence of Joe Biden as the unassailable front-runner in the Democratic Primary belies a contest that at various turns broke new ground. From its unprecedented field, larger and more representative than ever (save the brief participation of two billionaires), to the remarkable resuscitation of one moribund campaign, the departure from custom was clear. Nowhere was this more obvious than in policy, where the inclusion of senators, Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders, dragged the conversation leftwards into distinctly uncharted territory. While all candidates acknowledged America’s extreme inequality and the need for better healthcare, social security, etc., divergence came in the prescribed means of redistribution, and unusually discussion extended beyond familiar calls to raise income tax for the rich. Most liberal of the proposals was a wealth tax: an annual tax on everything an individual owns. Its mere suggestion confirmed an improbable rise of a policy that until recently was dismissed as fringe and anti-aspirational.

The reputation gained by economists has been a remarkable feat of PR; a branding job like no other. Quite how it developed remains a mystery, some inexplicable sleight-of-hand. Its consequence, however, is far easier to discern: in the minds of many, economics came to be thought of as a science. Removed from its rough prediction roots, it became a discipline of watertight theory, with a methodology capable of unearthing indisputable truths.

The Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel 2019 has been awarded to three economists “for their experimental approach to alleviating global poverty”1: Esther Duflo, Abhijit Banerjee and Michael Kremer.

The current moment is one defined by crisis. It can be found everywhere: in the climate, economy, mental health, even in democracy. It’s so ubiquitous as to have almost become the new norm. Amid the chaos, politics has struggled to keep up, its landscape is in permanent shift, its rulebook long thrown away. New formations have emerged, metastasized, sometimes died, and occasionally taken over - developments often surprising and hard to make sense of. What’s clear, though, is that polarisation has set in. From Bernie to Bolsanaro, from Modi to Make America Great Again, the voices now heard, the names that fill newspaper columns, are reminding us just how wide the political spectrum is. For many, it's a terrifying prospect, for others, it’s a thrilling and necessary reset. For the centre, as developments in the US and UK are showing, it may well spell death. 

Whether you are a seasoned researcher or a new economics student, it pays to know which journals are the most prestigious and well-known for certain topics. They can help you find the right papers for a literature review, stay on top of the latest research in the field, and even help you set your own publishing goals.

Few would contest it has been the ideology of our political age. Ever since the 1980s, it has dominated western politics, underpinning governance, influencing culture, and leaving its indelible mark across society. During this time its core tenets were rarely challenged and only its peripheral aspects tweaked. The 2008 financial crash, however, changed this, shaking confidence in an ideology whose name, up until that point, was rarely ever spoken. With the loss of savings, skyrocketing inequality and falling living standards that followed, people wanted answers and began to question the system that had facilitated such a disaster.

The jostling between market and state, and the territory that each occupies, lies at the heart of political discourse. It's the major fault line around which political parties form and debates rage. Despite their uneasy relationship, between them they generally make available all that we need, be it food, a home, healthcare, employment, or education, at varying - and often questionable - quality and cost. The demarcation between the two, rarely ever static, differs widely across states, and speaks to the values of the society in question. What, for instance, can be said of a country whose privatised higher education is financially off limits to its poorer citizens? Is it right to leave the market responsible for people’s health? And what of the provision of childcare?

As claims go, Francis Fukuyama’s insistence that history’s run its course has aged rather badly. The ascent of China, the Great Recession, spiralling inequality across the West, and now COVID-19, have all, in their own way, undermined his notion that capitalist liberal democracy is the political endgame. If anything, political choice seems to be expanding. People are increasingly being offered the opportunity to continue with capitalism, occasionally of the nativist variety and sometimes strictly neoliberal, or, alternatively, to try a little socialism.

Your first day at work and you’re nervous, naturally. You decide, for the sake of catharsis, to quickly recap the journey that led you to the computer screen into which you now resolutely stare, a journey that many INOMICS readers will know all too well.

With university life still suffering major disruptions and COVID fatigue reaching new heights, we at INOMICS felt it time for the latest instalment in our ‘online course’ series.

The US economy is improving, so we are told. With the financial crash receding into the distance, almost out of sight, things are looking up, the future is finally brightening. Unemployment reached a 50-year low in 2019, falling to 3.5%, while US employers have added almost 5 million jobs in just two years. These are ‘the best economic numbers our country has ever experienced’, the President declared at Davos, with characteristic humility. And bombast aside, his sentiment is not without foundation, the US economy is posting some good numbers. In addition to jobs, GDP has been growing at close to 3 percent annually, and the Dow Jones has increased by 49% is the last 3 years - all of which is great election fodder for the coming campaign. Democrats should be wary.

Inequality is rampant, we hardly need telling. Rarely does the print media pass up an opportunity to remind us. We stand inundated by an endless stream of statistics – on scales barely fathomable – each one more depressing than the last. For instance, it’s widely known that: ‘8% of humanity takes home 50% of global income’; that ‘the top 1% own 45% of the world’s wealth’; and how could we forget that ‘the 26 richest people on earth had the same net worth as the poorest half’. As shocking as these stats once were, they’re now dishearteningly familiar; we can recite them unassisted; we are numb to them.

​Supply-side economics. Since its conception in the 1970s, debating its merits – or lack thereof – has been at the heart of political discourse, demarcating Republican from Democrat, Tory loyalist from Labour devotee, and informing not just an economic outlook, but a world view. 

In the collective consciousness, the economist exists as a middle-aged man, bespectacled and clad in a suit, whose unhealthy pallor betrays a hermit-like lifestyle led in the confines of a library. Of course, this image isn’t a particularly fair reflection of the discipline, or its practitioners. Some, for instance, will be aware that in the last few years a number of economists have experimented with contact lenses. Nevertheless, the stereotype remains instructive: the large majority of economists are men, and given the positions they hold, and influence they exert, such homogeneity is a cause for concern.