Esteemed economist, Stanford Professor, and friend of INOMICS, Matthew O. Jackson, generously took time out of his busy schedule to take part in the third INOMICS Handbook Questionnaire. Opposite him, in his customary role of quizmaster, was Professor Marcel Fratzscher, president of the DIW Berlin, and one of Germany’s leading voices in macroeconomics. Observing tradition, and as a nod to those involved, the encounter has been dubbed ‘Fratzscher v Jackson’.

Few would contest it as 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 political system that had facilitated such a disaster.

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Economics has a gender problem, it always has, and unfortunately, it appears to be getting worse. Until recently, the impression was that this historically male-dominated discipline was turning a corner—albeit rather slowly—and the number of women studying economics was creeping upwards. That progress, however, looks to have stalled, and by some accounts, including that of the Australian Department of Education, actually gone into reverse. All the while, the number of women in the STEM fields (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Maths)—long notorious for their poor gender ratios—has been steadily increasing. It looks as though the ‘old boys’ club’ of economics might be closing ranks.

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.

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.