Book Title : Dear Undercover Economist

Author: Tim Harford
Publisher: Abacus

WHO would you seek counsel from to solve your day-to-day problems? Parents, family and friends spring to mind. Perhaps one could write to an agony aunt who runs an advice column if one wishes for the issue to be kept discreet, particularly if the matter pertains to something as complicated as parenting, etiquette or the dark arts of seduction.

There is nothing wrong with any of the options mentioned above, except that they tend to shy away from giving the most thorough advice to mask the faults of those close to them. At best, they offer a shoulder to cry on and at worst, they tell white lies.

In this second book, Tim Harford offers a rather unusual solution – seek the help of an economist.

Why an economist, of all people?

They don’t just offer advice; they justify it by referring to social theories which govern the way people go about doing things. The main problem with this bunch of problem solvers, however, is their love for jargon and their inability to be sociable. As a result, any opinion given will be blunt, rude and more than likely to leave the advice seeker in tears.

Yet, such advice can be surprisingly sound. By stripping away social niceties and using the economist’s instinct to model problems, one can succeed in providing the kind of no-nonsense counsel you would expect from a good advice column.

Which is what ‘Dear Economist’ is – a weekend column in the Financial Times (FT) where Harford answers letters relating to life’s problems with the aid of his wit, intelligence and the sound mind of an economist.

Having only become a reader of the FT recently, my initial thoughts were that the column was meant to be a serious, no-nonsense type.

One of the more recent questions I happened to come across was “why take the bus from London to Paris if there is an empty plane scheduled to fly that route anyway. Wouldn’t the carbon emissions still be equal?”.

It seemed like a decent enough question.

However, after picking up Harford’s second book Dear Undercover Economist, a compilation of the very best letters from the ‘Dear Economist’ column written between 2003 and 2008, I realised that the column was put in place to provide light relief from the more conventional business articles that the FT publishes.

Which is great! There are only so many business articles I can stomach on a weekend morning.

I must admit that at first, I found it strange that anybody would ever write to an economist for help.

No doubt one must have exhausted all possible avenues to have to post the question “I’m a likeable person but I’ve been told I give off a bad first impression. How do I make women give me a second chance?” to a national newspaper.

Harford’s response was to compare the person to a new manufacturer trying to persuade customers of its DVD Player’s reliability.

Harford’s solution: propose a “guarantee” to a woman of his fancy in offering two tickets to the theatre for a second date should she agree to a first!

It is a classic example of his wit, while the originality and applicability of his solution makes you wonder why nobody ever approaches an economist first in times of need.

I suspect, as usual with tongue-in-cheek columns, that some questions may have been posted in jest.

However, in one case, a student from ‘Cantorbridge’ College seeks advice on how students could best collectively slack off, form a cartel and drag the examination marking standard down, which is pretty mischevious, and not something usually taken seriously.

Until you read the following letter, written the following week by Professor X, an economics lecturer from the same college, seeking advice on how to crush the student cartel.

The author’s response? “If you, an economics lecturer, cannot outwit a student cartel, they had little to learn from you in any case.” Harsh.

The highlight of the book for me was how Harford signed off after every advice he gave – he made sure that he would address his readers in a way which poked fun at the subject, followed by “The Undercover Economist”.

For instance, after giving advice to an old technophobe who was afraid Facebook would diminish the quality of his business contacts, Harford signed off as “Your ‘Friend’, The Undercover Economist”.

Makes for a refreshing change, especially when compared to how the usual agony aunt would just sign off “Yours truly”.

Dear Undercover Economist does a good job of showing that modern economics is no longer dominated by mathematical supermen, but by streetwise detectives who also happen to be well equipped to deal with the agony genre. Expect good advice, comedy and impressive put downs. Just don’t expect a shoulder to cry on.