For many sophomores, this is the term of reckoning. Within weeks, we will be expected to declare our majors and offer up a clear program of study to the powers that be. We will turn to the ORC, our academic bible, and attempt to devise a coherent D-plan consisting of quite possibly two majors, two FSPs, and a mixture of must-take classes like Ed 20 or English 24. In the course of the term, we will probably change our majors as often as we change our underwear.
No such problems for me. While I make sure my knickers are fresh and clean every day, my major has the staying power of the coffee stain on my iBook. I'm majoring in ECON. That's right. It's E-C-O-N-O-M-I-C-S -- the subject that breeds investment bankers and glorified soothsayers, I mean, consultants, with the efficiency of a fortune cookie production line.
Economics has a major image problem on campus. People tend to see econ majors as money-grubbing Wall Street types or cold-blooded capitalists with souls for sale at perfectly competitive prices. Humanities majors scoff at us for reducing human potential to mere production capacity. Science majors laugh at our discipline's poor predictive skills and theories that lack any real world application. Social scientists just think we make the rest of them look bad -- why study something that is so darn obvious?
The course offerings at Dartmouth seem to perpetuate this image. Courses in finance are offered three terms a year, with at least two sections each term. In comparison, the course in public economics has only one section offered in fall every year. Other subfields share a similar fate. Then again, course offerings should reflect student demand. Economics is one of the most popular majors on campus, and many majors do choose the finance track for their concentration.
Nonetheless, economics is not just about stock markets or hedge funds. Just as the biological sciences is dominated by genetics, but is more than just the study of genes, economics cannot be reduced to just the study of banks. At its most fundamental, economics is the study of choice. Like it or not, we live in a world with limited resources. The question is how these resources should be allocated.
With scarcity, it makes sense that we should make the most efficient use of resources. Here, economists are accused of various injustices against third world labor, the environment and the Proton car factory outside Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. The problem with the concept of efficiency is that it is necessarily fraught with value judgements. There are costs to every choice, but some costs are not as easily assessed and are thus unfortunately forgotten. The fault of some economists, maybe, but not an inherent sin of the discipline surely.
We should also stop pretending that only economists are concerned about choice. When an artist produces a piece of art, it is a sublime choice to express his/her intentions in this particular way and not other infinite possibilities. When we pick up a novel to read, we cast aside many others worthy of our attention. Even scientific progress isn't an extended march along the frontlines -- we choose to move where the terrain is easier -- research funds are, after all, limited.
Economics is thus an attempt to understand an essential part of being human: why we choose to do the things we do. Yes, that includes figuring out the right mix of stocks, bonds and cash to obtain the highest investment yield, but it goes beyond mere money management to every aspect of our lives. No one can escape from choice. Even Osama bin Laden has a fine selection of winter mountainside getaways in Tora Bora.
Economics is the "dismal science." How economics qualified to be a "science" in the first place is anyone's guess, but to describe the discipline as "dismal" is correct. These days, we like to think of ourselves as people of free will and choice. We are constantly reminded that there is no limit to human endeavor. Unfortunately, such exhortations, like MSG-laden Chinese food, do not bring out the real bittersweet flavor of human existence.
Indeed, we have free choice, but each time we choose something, something else must be given up. Humankind can accomplish anything, but sometimes we forget that like canned food, we all have an expiration date -- only in this case, it is not clearly printed on the placental packaging. How disappointing it must be to be reminded that despite all our achievements, we remain finite beings with limited life-spans. No wonder no one likes economists.
